Family Ties
by SparkHiggins
Summary: ***FINISHED*** Alexandra Conlon is in search of her brother, but being the sister of Brooklyn's toughest newsie isn't exactly a slice of cake.
1. Alexandra Conlon

A/N: This was written to get over Wish Upon A Star writer's block. I'll write it as I write WUAS and continue it afterwards, if its any good. Your call. Review, and you get more!  
I looked around the landscape of Central Park one more time. I smiled looking at the scene that had been new and exotic to me when I found my brother four years ago. I had finished selling my papes for the day so I lay down on the grass, remembering back to when I found out about my brother and Manhattan for the first time.  
  
"Alexandra! Pay attention!" my teacher scolded me for zoning off, but I was still staring out the window and didn't hear even that. The girl sitting next to me elbowed me and I yelped and was about to start in on her for hitting me when I realized why.  
  
"I am so sorry, ma'am. It is not that your lesson is not interesting, it is just such a lovely day outside that I felt a need to be outside," I said, my voice sugary sweet and praying I would get out of any further trouble for the day. With as many punishments as I had behind me, this wasn't going to be pretty.  
  
She looked at me with a look of fury on her face. "You used that excuse last time! And the five times before that! How do you expect to get through school and into a decent college with your attitude?" she asked me sternly.  
  
"I don't," I told her truthfully. She stared at me, so I continued, "Its not like I can afford it anyhow. And even you know the chances of me getting a scholarship are non-existent." I had lost my careful and polite tone and was now speaking to her without any level of respect or dignity.  
  
"Maybe if you behaved well, you could get a scholarship," she said, the anger very easy to detect in her voice.  
  
"I doubt it," I snorted, then turned back to the window, staring outside at the dusty roads and longing to be free of the classroom.  
  
"That's it, Miss Collins. You are suspended. An official letter will be sent to your parents as soon as possible," the teacher said as she sent another girl down the hall to inform the headmaster.  
  
"Its Conlon," I said, trying to maintain the appearance of having the upper hand. I always had a need to appear tough, though I can't exactly tell you why. I grabbed my books and stormed out of the room in what was distinctly an insulting manner towards the teacher. I walked to my house and went inside.  
  
My father approached me, speaking with certain urgency, "You need to leave. The police are after me, and I do not want them to catch you. You need to go to New York City and find your brother. His name is Michael. Take a minute to gather your things, and take this money with you." He handed me a sack that felt like it must have been five dollars in change.  
  
I ran to my room and grabbed another change of clothes, then headed toward my father. I kissed him on the forehead and left quickly and quietly. I didn't know the all of it, but my father was in trouble with the police, and if I was with them when he got caught. Ugh. I shuddered to think of the place that they would put me: the orphanage. But let's just say the orphanage isn't exactly the nicest place to stay. It's more like jail with more manual labor. I left the house heading to the train depot and bought a ticket to go to Manhattan. I road the train in silence, ignoring the unwanted attention of a dirty looking man sitting across from me.  
  
The train let out an hour later and I looked around the city, breathing in the site around me. I'd never been out of Trenton before, let alone New Jersey, and here I was in New York City. Had it not been for the grave danger my father was in, I would be celebrating. I couldn't help but feel slightly tingly inside at the thought of being somewhere new though. I looked around for someone to ask. I saw a newsie standing in the street, and, knowing that newsies know everything going on in the city, approached him.  
  
"Can I help you, miss?" he asked politely, noticing my state of dress. "Would you like a paper? It's The New York World. Top-notch quality," he droned on.  
  
"Sure," I said, knowing that would please him and get him to feel more obliged to help me. "Do you know of a Michael Conlon."  
  
"Michael Conlon?" the newsie said thoughtfully. "I don't think I know a Michael. Then again, I know most people by their nicknames. Speaking of names, you have one?"  
  
"Alexandra Rachel Conlon," I told him proudly. "You have one?"  
  
"If you want to be all proper, its Andrew Trey Parker, but I'd rather you call me Kid Blink, Blink for short," the boy said, and I started to notice a New York accent lurking beneath his proper speech.  
  
"Alright, Blink, you think any of your other boys will know Michael?" I asked.  
  
"If you wait for me to sell these last five papers I'll see what I can do for you," he offered.  
  
"Sounds good to me," I told him. "Oh, and Blink?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You don't have to hide your accent anymore. I'm not some proper New York lady who'd be offended by your speech."  
  
"Thank ya, dat was gettin' really annoyin'," he said. He turned away from me yelling off, "Family Member of the Mayor Killed!" about some headline that really said, 'Mayors Dog Dies of Food Poisoning.' I laughed as people scurried over, only to yell at him when they saw the real headlines.  
  
We headed off towards the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House in search of Michael A. Conlon.  
A/N: Okay, so the last name gives away who it is! Darn it! Oh well, what do you think so far? 


	2. Finding Michael and Meeting Race

I walked into the room on Blink's arm. I noticed a few of the boys staring wide-eyed at Blink as if this wasn't a common occurrence.  
  
"Any of you know of a Michael Conlon?" he asked the room. One of the boys tried to stifle a laugh, but Blink didn't notice.  
  
"Blink," the boy said laughing and moving from my post on the opposite side of a my bunk bed, "Think for a second. Ya realize what ya askin'? Conlon, Blinky-boy, Conlon." A look of confusion crossed Blink's face and this time the other boy didn't even try to hide the laugh that came out. He continued, "Spot. Spot Conlon. Michael Conlon. Michael is Spot. Got dat?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I knew that all along. I was just seein' if you did," Blink said, trying to cover up his blunder unsuccessfully. I couldn't help but laugh along with him.  
  
The same boy looked at me and asked, "Ya got a name, goil?"  
  
Blink started to answer for me, but I cut him off. "I can speak for myself. The name's Alexandra Conlon, but I'd prefer Alex if ya don't mind. Ya got one?"  
  
"Yeah. Anthony Higgins, but call me Racetrack. Or Race if ya too lazy ta say da whole thing."  
  
I saw a him flash a thumbs-up at Blink and I cut him off. "And before you ask, Blink and I ain't tagether. I ain't one of ya little whores dat ya only like for five seconds. I'se more respectable den dat."  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean ta offend ya. And Blink ain't da type ta use a goil den lose 'er, for the record," he tried to explain.  
  
"Sure ya didn't," I said skeptically.  
  
"You'se is just like ya bruddah, goil," he told me. Other boys nodded in agreement and I remembered Michael. Or Spot, as they called him here.  
  
"So, who is my brother? Do I get to meet him anytime soon?" I asked.  
  
"Oh, trust me, hon, you'll be seein' a lot of ya bruddah. He nevah goes away. But I wouldn't be too excited if I was you. He's protective of his boys, I don' wanna think what he'd be like with ya. Just a warnin'," he told me  
  
"So, he's a newsboy too?" she asked.  
  
"Of course, Sweets. We all are," I said.  
  
"Don't you ever call me 'hon' or 'sweets' again!" I yelled. "Now, will someone please take me to my brother?"  
  
"I'll do that," a tall blonde boy said as he walked over from the back of the room. "Ya shoulda asked me in the first place."  
  
The girl looked at me questioningly so I told her, "Jack Kelly. He's da 'Hattan leadah. Sorry, Jack, didn't mean ta take ya place. And trust me, I don' want it."  
  
"Dat's only 'cause ya couldn't handle it," Jack said cockily. He turned to the girl, "Ya want me ta take ya?"  
  
"It's all right, Jack, I'll take her," the boy offered.  
  
"And leave da pokah game?" Jack said in surprise.  
  
"I'se broke, Jack. I don't have da money left ta play. Dis would be a service ta me if ya let me take her. Please?"  
  
"All right, all right. Go ahead. But I wanna know what Spot says, 'kay?" Jack said as he walked back towards the end of the room.  
  
"'Kay," he told him. He looked at me, "Dat all right?"  
  
"Sure," I said as he grabbed his hat and led me out the door. "So, let me get this straight. My brother Michael is now the leader of the Brooklyn newsboys and people call him a name you'd expect for a household pet?"  
  
He grinned, "Basically, yeah. But don' tell him I said dat, 'kay?"  
  
"What, you scared of him?" I asked, smirking.  
  
"I ain't scared a no one!" he said, trying to defend his honor. I laughed and he started laughing too. "Well, maybe a little. But, I'se one of da few guys still smallah den him."  
  
"So he's small?" I asked, still not knowing anything about my brother.  
  
"You'll see," he said grinning. "But ya, he's pretty shrimpy. Got da most respect of any newsie evah though. No one evah insults him, or he'll get sudden death."  
  
"So he's a tough-ass?" I asked him, trying to picture Michael in my mind, but I just couldn't. There were still too many gaps left to fill in.  
  
"Ya could say dat. Dontcha know anythin' about ya own bruddah?" he asked.  
  
"I haven't seen him since I was about five years old. And that was over ten years ago. Don't recollect him too much, no."  
  
"Oh, so, how old are ya now?" Race asked interested. I looked at him trying not to laugh.  
  
"Seventeen, you?" I answered.  
  
"Eighteen," he told me, and I thought I noticed a small smile creeping onto his face. I heard him muttering to himself, though I'm not sure what it was he was saying. "Well, heah we are," he announced when we reached some docks. "Dis is Spot's perch. He should be ovah dere."  
  
A muscular boy pulled himself out of the water and slid a shirt on. "Ya heah for Spot?" he asked Racetrack, who nodded. "Lemme take ya to him," he said leading the way further down the docks to where my brother was apparently waiting.  
  
I saw a relatively small boy sitting on a wooden post on the docks, slingshot in one hand and a cane resting on the other side of him. "Spot?" I asked meekly.  
  
"Dats me name," he said. "And who're ya supposed ta be?"  
  
"Your sister," I said and he looked at me in disbelief.  
  
Shaking his head he asked, "Alex?"  
A/N: Alright, I'm just trying this out for fun, its an exploration of a little tidbit of what happened in my friend Mouth's story that I wanted to take and run with it (mostly because it was about moi!) so bear with me here.  
  
Shoutouts:  
  
Firecracker- Yeah, I know he would have, but ya know what? This is my fic and Blink is stupid. LOL, Patch is gonna kill me for that. Then again, she didn't kill me for making the two of them make out. If she asks, tell her that I think he's stupid but hot. And very good at pelvic thrusts. LOL. Anyway, I'm working on a new chapter of WUAS so expect it sometime this weekend.  
  
Windy- Glad ya like it. I'll have some more up again soon. I'm a very fast update - erm -- person.  
  
Priscilla- Well, this is short too, but I'm on a tight schedule and I don't have much time for writing at the moment. But the next scene will be the introduction, so keep reading.  
  
Sprite- Yay! Its my travelling reviewer that reviews everything. It makes me feel special XD I'll update this and WUAS soon, but you need to update too! I'm waiting, and not too patiently. Haha. Update soon!  
  
Liz- Thanks, glad ya like it.  
  
Okay, more soon. Review because I crave reviews like a nymphomaniac craves sex (don't even ask about that quote)!! Well, byya! 


	3. Confrontations

"Ah, I see you know my name. Surprising since you left nearly twelve years ago. Never thought to contact us, did you?" I asked, bombarding him with all the emotions that had been inside me since I was a five-year-old girl. "Never once decided to let us know you were alive. Didn't care about anyone but yourself, eh?"  
  
"Its not what ya think. It wasn't my choice," Spot started, but I cut him off again.  
  
"Not what I think, eh? You hear that boys? Michael here -excuse me, Spot here - says that it wasn't his choice whether to run off or not. Why not, Mike? You seem content and not in any danger. Why couldn't you just let us know you were alive?"  
  
He snorted, "Pa wouldn't have cared. He liked ya bettah anyway. Bet he nevah talks 'bout me now, right?"  
  
"Don't even go there, Michael Aaron Conlon! You know Father loved you just as much as me. And leaving that aside, I deserved to know where you were and how you were. I was, well, am, your sister. I care about you Spot! You're only two years older then me. Why'd you run off then, eh? Just let me know. I deserve to know at least," I said, losing my tough edge with the last sentence.  
  
"I don' know. I don' know," Spot muttered, repeating himself over and over again. His boys looked at him at his weak moment, and he felt the need to demonstrate his authority. "But who're you ta tell me what ta do. You ain't me muddah!" I blinked back the tears welling in my eyes.  
  
Did he even remember? Our mother had died giving birth to me. Forever I'd held the sorrow and responsibility for her death. Racetrack realized I was upset, though he couldn't have known why. He put his arm around me and glared at Spot. "Spot, I always though ya was a good guy, but ya hoit ya own sistah like dat. You'se a bastard, Spot. A real bastard. And dere ain't no arguin' wit' dat, even you know it." He turned and grabbed my arm, "Let's go, Alex. Apparently, you'se ain't wanted heah. Let's go back ta 'Hattan." I followed him and walked off away from the docks.  
  
A/N: Yeah, this is a freakishly short chapter, but I hate writing more then one scene as a chapter, and I think this needed some abruptness. Please don't kill me for making Spot a bastard in this chapter, I will make him change. At least, change a little. I still think he's somewhat a bastard, but I love him anyway.  
  
Priscilla- Yep, I guess you did say that. Glad ya like it, most of these reviewers have read some of my other stuff, but its nice to have a new reviewer. (  
  
Bailey- You ain't hanging anymore, though I don't know whether this will make you happy or not. Hehe, I like leaving people hanging. I hate it when people do that to me, so now I'm having fun doing it to other people. I'm a horrible hypocrite. It is great fun.  
  
Sprite- I love reading your reviews. They make me really happy, its fun to travel, ain't it? I do that for some people too, including you. You updated! Now I want more. I'm really impatient, aren't I? I'll try to work you in eventually, but it may take a while. More you and Skitts to come in WUAS. XD 


	4. Who Would Pay?

"Don' worry 'bout it," Racetrack comforted me as we walked away from the docks. I still shook with the sobs at the mention of my mother. I couldn't believe that after over a decade of not knowing him my brother simply didn't want to talk to me. Not only that, but when I talked to him he insulted me and mentioned the one thing that could stop me in my tracks. "He's an ass, but we'll give ya a place ta stay till he comes ta his senses. I'm always heah for ya if ya need me. Remember dat."  
  
"Thank you," I whispered under my breath and smiled weakly at him.  
  
"We's gotta go find Jack and the uddahs. I think they'll be at Tibby's, so let's try dere. Dat alright?" he asked me kindly.  
  
"Yes, that's alright," I told him, and allowed him to lead me through the streets back to Manhattan. He steered me into a restaurant with many of the boys from the lodging house.  
  
"Jack, can I talk to ya?" Racetrack asked Jack when we got inside. "Privately," he added, and motioned to the waiter who opened a door to a supply closet. "Dat'll woik, I guess," he told the waiter, who hurried off. We sat on various buckets in the closet, cramped. "Jack." Race started.  
  
I couldn't let him explain for me, I had to talk for myself. "I can do it, Race. Jack, Spot doesn't want me. He won't even talk to me without spite and hate. He doesn't regret leaving, and he wants nothing to do with me. He had the nerve to mention my mother!" I said, then realized what I'd admitted.  
  
"What about ya muddah?" Jack asked. When I refused to tell him he asked again, "I ain't tryin' ta invade ya privacy, but I'se gotta know. I'll talk ta Spot fo' ya, but I need ta know da story."  
  
"Something in his voice made me want to trust him, but it still wasn't easy to talk about. I tried, but tears welled up in my eyes. I had promised myself I wouldn't cry the moment I knew I was leaving, but I couldn't help it. The drops spilled out and I croaked, "My mother died giving birth to me. I've always felt it was my fault, and Michael knew that," I said, then dissolved into tears.  
  
Racetrack patted my back protectively, "Jack, let it off for now. She's been through a lot. Can ya talk ta her another time?" Jack nodded in agreement, and opened the door to affirm his consent. "Ladies foist," Race said and I stepped around him and out the door. Jack and Race followed.  
  
"Ya gonna stay ta eat?" Jack asked us. I told him yes and he called over a waiter who took my order. I grabbed the pouch I had in my skirt pockets and dug through it to pay for my meal. "I'll get dat," Jack offered, but I refused.  
  
"I can't do much, but I can pay for my own food. Thank you, though," I told him and handed over a nickel to the waiter. He brought my salad a moment later, and I ate, savoring the food. It had only been twenty-four hours since I last ate, but it felt like days. As I inhaled the dish, the boys stared at me. "What, never seen anyone eat before?" I asked them sarcastically.  
  
"Even I don't eat like dat," Jack finally spoke, and Race continued to look at me. "You'se got some interestin' manners, goil."  
  
"Well, I am Spot Conlon's sister," I pointed out matter-of-factly.  
  
"Yeah, but I always figured Spot got dose mannahs aftah gettin' heah. Nevah thought he got 'em at home," Jack said.  
  
"Well, my father was very relaxed about behavior, as long as it didn't happen in public. I can be a charmer if need be, but I hate to do it," I told him.  
  
"Yeah, but Spot did develop his accent aftah he got heah, right?" Jack asked.  
  
"Yeah, of course. But I will say that as a kid he was pretty good at picking up accents. I'm not too bad myself, if need be."  
  
"Try it out," Race said, so I did.  
  
"What, ya mean like dis? It ain't dat hard if ya do 'em enough. Just takes woik. I know I ain't got it quite poifect yet, but I haven't done New Yawk in quite a while," I said, though my accent truly wasn't that good. I hadn't had to do a "New Yawk" accent before, and I'd only been hearing them for a while. "Sorry, I know it isn't the best," I apologized.  
  
Jack laughed and Racetrack grinned. "Goil, you'se an absolute natural. Don' even start with da apologizin', ya know you'se got it good," Race said.  
  
"Trust me, I can do much, much better given some time to practice. Not that I have much of a choice anyway," I answered, my thoughts returning to Michael lashing out at me. I started analyzing his words, realizing the motions and facial expressions in between his words. He'd been trying to seem like a tough guy, not to be intimidated my any girl. Maybe he hadn't even meant to mention our mother. But he had, and he chose to do that, and I was for no reason going to forgive him without an apology.  
  
"Ya comin', Alex? We's leavin'," Jack said. I nodded and followed him out the door. "We's goin' to the distribution office ta buy our afternoon papes," he explained.  
  
"All right, Jack, when ya done monopolizin' Alex, want me ta take her sellin'?" Race offered. Jack told him that yes, that would be a good idea. I stood back as Racetrack bought the papers. He approached me and held out a paper, "Dis heah is a pape. We sell 'em," he explained.  
  
I laughed and whacked the back of his head with my hand, "I think I know that much at least, smart one."  
  
"Ya sure 'bout dat?" Race asked jokingly, earning him another whack from me. "You'se a violent goil, Alex. Didn't ya father teach ya not ta hit innocent newsboys?"  
  
"I wouldn't exactly call you innocent, Race," I joked.  
  
"How do you know that?" he asked, and raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.  
  
"Don't make me whack you again," I warned him. "Anyway, you'd have to pay for that sort of gratuitous service, I'm not free," I joked.  
  
"Lemme ask ya dis, who would pay?"  
  
"You know you want me," I joked. He looked me up and down for a moment. "All right, that does not give you permission to stare at my chest," I said and immediately he jumped and stammered to deny that he had been. "Shut up, you blubbering fool, just go sell your papers."  
A/N: Um, yeah, nothing new to say since I just posted this afternoon.  
Shoutouts- Wait, no Shoutouts. No one has reviewed since my last chapter was posted. I feel so unloved. Haha. 


	5. Meeting the Goils

Racetrack started selling papers, and I watched him interested. Sure, I'd seen newsboys selling before, but I never realized how much effort it took, from making up headlines to convincing people to buy from you, not your friend a few streets over. I watched them, amazed at the headlines they were creating.  
  
"You make those up?" I asked and he nodded. "You mean you lie to sell your papers?"  
  
"Well." he started then shook his head as if changing his mind. "Yeah, its lyin'. Jack always has dis thing dat it ain't lyin', its just improvin' da truth a little, but mainly its lyin'. We only do it ta sell though, most of da 'Hattan boys are da most trustworthy boys I evah met. 'Cept when dey gotta sell or go to da Refuge."  
  
"What's the Refuge?" I asked. I could tell from his tone that it was something bad, but I still didn't know quite what.  
  
"It's a jail for kids. Snyder was da warden a few yeahs back when we had da strike. He toook da money for us and spent it on his own stuff, leavin' us ta nearly starve. We tried ouah hardest not ta get stuck dere, but da bulls don't really listen ta street-rats like us, ya know?"  
  
"I see. Well, if its any consolation, I believe you," I told him honestly. "I really do."  
  
"I know ya do. And ya don't know how much it means ta me either. Da boys don't like just anyone, but you'se ain't a hoity-toity like some of da goils we seen walkin' around. For one, none of dem are da sistah of da great Spot Conlon, or, at least, the once great Spot Conlon. I won't take ta anyone treatin' ya like dat."  
  
I leaned over to him and whispered a quick "Thank you" in his ear. I looked and realized that throughout our conversation he had sold the rest of the papers he was holding before.  
  
"Ya wanna bet on da races?" he asked since we were, of course, at his favorite selling spot.  
  
"Jack said I'm supposed to keep you from betting tonight. We're supposed to go back to the lodging house straight away anyway to talk to Jack about what you all are going to do to me."  
  
He grinned mischievously in my direction. "Do 'to' you, Alex?" he asked suggestively. "I know just what I want to do 'to' you."  
  
"With me," I corrected myself quickly. "Now, lets go."  
  
"Yes, mother dearest," he mocked.  
  
"Oh shut up, Higgins." I said, hitting him again.  
  
"All right already. There is now a "No Hitting Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins rule!" he exclaimed and I couldn't help but laugh.  
  
We reached the lodging house, and Racetrack pulled me quickly upstairs. "So, Jack, what we gonna do wit' her? She can't stay heah and Spot don' want her."  
  
"I already talked ta Kloppman, Race. He wants me ta take her to da newsgoils lodging house a few blocks down. I'll make sure Sli takes care of her," Jack answered. Race must have looked upset because Jack added, "She can still sell with us, don' look so upset." Race sighed in relief which of course Jack couldn't help but comment on, "Dere somethin' goin' on heah I don't know about?"  
  
"We're just friends," I told him quickly. "Now what about this 'newsgoils' lodging house?"  
  
"I'll show ya," Jack said. "Race, you stay behind and hold down the fort. Sorry, but you'se second in command." Race trudged towards the back of the room, where I noticed a poker game was going on.  
  
Jack led me out the door and into the streets, down a few blocks and up to a building with a big sign on it that read, "Manhattan Newsgirls Lodging House" The paint was peeling from the sides, and the shutters were sagging slightly on their hinges. I wasn't exactly optimistic on what the inside would be, but it turned out to be a pleasant surprise. It was practically disintegrating, but every square inch around me was clean, and nothing was lying on the floor. It was evident that the person who owned this place made a big deal about respectability and cleanliness.  
  
That person popped out through a doorway a moment later, "Oh, Kelly, nice ta see you. Ya got somethin' for me? Or ya just visiting the goils?"  
  
"I got a new one for ya, ma'am, her name's Alex." Then he turned and whispered -or at least he thought he whispered, but I still overheard him saying-to her, "Spot's sistah, but he won't take her back. I think he's feelin' guilty, an' I'm gonna go talk ta him, but she needs a place for the meanwhile."  
  
The woman looked at me and smiled sweetly. In a motherly tone she told me, "Hello, I'm Miss Huntred. I'm the owner of this boarding house, where you'll apparently be staying, at least for a little while. There aren't that many rules, but here are the ones that do exist. No boys in the rooms after eleven, and sign in every night. You'll get free board tonight, but every night after that its two cents a night. You got that?"  
  
I stared at her in awe as she rattled of her speech so much that I barely heard her ask the last question. I nodded, "Yeah, I got it."  
  
"Sorry about the tirade, I just find I forget somethin' from da introduction if it isn't in a structured form like dat. I promise dat that's da only lecture you'll hear from me for as long as you lodge here. Unless, of course, I find Kelly or any of his boys over heah after eleven," she said warmly.  
  
"You have no need to worry about that," I told her.  
  
"I never really did," she told me and then looked around the room we were in. "You want to meet the rest of the goils?" she offered. I nodded and she called up the stairs, "Goils! We got a new one heah!"  
  
I heard a noise equivalent to an avalanche as a group of girls stormed down the stairs to my left. I turned around to look at them. I saw an average height dirty blonde surveying me with dark brown eyes. Beside her stood a girl with a mane of curly red hair and next to her was a taller girl with short blonde hair. She smiled at me, and I returned the gesture. Another girl came barreling out of the doorway a moment later, her wet red hair soaking the back of her shirt.  
  
The first gave me a nod of approval, which the others shared. Apparently she was the leader. She confirmed my belief when a moment later she said, "Hey. I'se Slider. I'se da leadah heah."  
  
"Yeah, she's da leadah. But I'se second in command. Mouth, at ya service," the first red haired girl bragged.  
  
Beside her the shorter haired blonde announced her name as well, "And I'se Sprite."  
  
The last girl to arrive looked up, "I'se Firecracker, but unlike da others, I gotta know: What's ya name, goil?"  
  
I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. "I'm Alexandra," I told them.  
  
"Still got ya real name? Ya got a surname?" Mouth asked.  
  
"Not of any consequence," I lied, not wanting to have to deal with the girls either celebrating or cowering in fear when they realized they were bunking with Spot Conlon's sister.  
  
"I see. Ya runnin'?" she continued.  
  
"No. Not from what you're thinking of, anyway." All the girls seemed to accept this answer, and I assume its because most of them had a similar situation. Miss Huntred told the girls to take me upstairs, so they did. They guided me to a bed where I collapsed. "Wait, why do you get real beds while the boys have double-deckers?"  
  
"Dere's less of us," Firecracker answered simply. I couldn't help but laugh, and Firecracker turned to the girls and added, "I told ya she could laugh. She ain't all ice."  
  
"I can hear you, you know," I told her, earning laughs from the rest of the girls. My stomach roared a moment later, which prompted my next question, "So, do we eat here?"  
  
Slider looked me dead on with honesty, and I knew what she was going to say before she said it. "Not unless you buy it yourself."  
  
"Its not that she wants us to starve," Sprite cut in, "but no one can afford to feed us. The lodging costs barely pay the true rent on this place."  
  
"I understand," I said. And, I did. I never would have thought of going hungry when I lived with my father, but I knew I would have to. Complaining wouldn't feed me any better than not and it would lose me friendships. "I know Miss Huntred's a nice lady, you don't have to try to prove it to me."  
  
"Most goils wouldn't take this that well. I'se glad you could. So, you want to play a game of pokah?"  
  
I nodded and she dealed me in. I lost miserably, but by the end I understood why we played. I was no longer craving food, In fact, I felt I could survive for weeks without it. I knew then that I would learn more from the newsies around me than I ever had from my school.  
  
My mind was made up. Whether Spot wanted me or not, I was staying.  
  
A/N: This is sadly the longest chapter I've written and its still only two and a half pages in size ten Times New Roman. I'm not good at the whole long chapter thing, but I update frequently. That should sort of work together, right? LOL.  
  
Sprite- I worked you in! I know you already realized that I did though. LOL, well, here you are. I actually got you in sooner than I thought I would, but I'm guessing you have no complaints. I love "The Guardian" so keep updating! Yeah, well, I wanted to write what I felt, and if I gave her perfect manners I would be totally lying. My mom told me I have the manners of a teenage boy. LOL.  
  
Sli- I swear he won't be an ass forever. And you already promised the dignity thing. So no going back or I will tell Audrey and all them about you kissing Funk. And you can bet I will. And I'll tell Royal about Gray. By the way, I was at that T Bar M tennis place today, didn't I go with you to pick your brother up there once? Or am I making that up? Who knows?  
  
Firecracker- Ya gotta update, cuz, well, ya just gotta! LOL. I find it sad that I can quote "Newsies" in any situation. But ya gotta. Cuz I have nothing to read, because none of you update. And that makes me have to update, but I have writer's block on WUAS. Pathetic, I know. I'm not supposed to get writer's block! It doesn't work that way! Haha, don't beat Spot, he's an ass, but a hot ass.  
REVIEW OR YOU GET NO MORE OF THIS OR OF "WISH UPON A STAR"!!! HOW WOULD YA LIKE THAT? NO? I DIDN'T THINK SO. SO REVIEW, MY MINIONS, REVIEW!!  
  
Oh yeah, I still need a title for this. * Sheepish Grin * Anyone have any ideas? 


	6. Finally Accepted

I woke to voices shouting and groaning. I tried to sit upright, and noticed a face peering over the edge of my bed. I'd always loved children, so I pulled her up onto my bed and started talking to her. "What's your name?"  
  
She smiled at me and then buried her head in the blanket. Another girl looked at me and answered, "Dat's Apple. She's Slidah's kid. She must be nearin' three yeahs now."  
  
"I don't know you either, what are you called?" I asked the dark haired girl sitting on the bed next to mine.  
  
"I'se Patch. Sorry I didn't meet ya earlier, but I was out with me boy. Ya know him? Kid Blink? Yeah, well, it was our two month anniversary last night, so he took me out ta dinnah," she answered. "I'se already hoid 'bout you I think. You'se Alex, right?"  
  
"That's me," I told her. "You always wake up this early?"  
  
"Ya think dis is early? Da sun's out, dat's amazin' we slept this late. When do you wake up?" she asked somewhat shocked.  
  
"Around seven-thirty. I had to be at school by eight o'clock. And I always found that that was too early for me."  
  
"Ya just gonna have ta get used to it," Slider said as she walked by. "Now get yaself ready. We's gotta show ya how ta sell ya papes."  
  
I groaned and dragged myself out of the bed. I buttoned the shirt I had taken off the night before and walked to the washroom. I splashed some water on my face, not even bothering to ask for soap since I knew they wouldn't have any. "You have to do this every day?" I asked Mouth.  
  
"Pretty much. You'll get used ta it though. You'se adjustin' quickah den some of da goils Jack brings in heah, actually. He always manages ta find some interestin' goils. Where'd he pick you up?" she asked.  
  
"It's a long story," I told her, not wanting to have to explain my connections. "But I'm not Jack's girl if that's what you're thinking."  
  
"Dat's what dey all say." She changed the subject, "Ya evah sell before?"  
  
"I watched Racetrack yesterday, but I've never tried my hand at it. He was really good though, I don't know that I can do it as well as he did."  
  
"Racetrack, eh? Interested in him?" Fingers asked as she walked up.  
  
"He's just a friend! Everyone always asks me that, what is it with you?" I asked. "I'm supposed to sell with him today though."  
  
The girls raised their eyebrows. Firecracker, who had joined us a few minutes beforehand, spoke first. "'S just dat Race don't normally take to da goils Jack brings heah. He tries ta stay as far away as he can, mostly. He claims he can't stand da "hoity-toity's". But he don't seem ta think dat with you." The girls nodded in agreement.  
  
"Are you calling me hoity-toity?" I asked, somewhat offended. Sure, I hadn't been brought up on the streets, but I never thought myself as bratty as the other girls at my station.  
  
"Nah, ya ain't. I'se just sayin' dat Race gave ya da time of day ta find dat out. And dat in itself is amazin'," Firecracker answered.  
  
"Enough of gossip time, let's go sell!" Slider shouted and the girls barreled through the door, me following close behind. We ran down the stairs and back to the building I'd been at the afternoon before. I looked around and saw the Manhattan boys approaching the distribution office as well.  
  
"Lookie dere, Alex. Its ya boy Higgins. He's smilin' at ya," Sprite teased with a laugh. Despite the mocking tones of the girls behind me, I self-consciously pushed my hair behind my ear. I caught his glance and smiled back. "Ya such a flirt, goil."  
  
"I resent that," I told her and the girls started laughing harder.  
  
Jack walked over. "What's so funny ovah heah?" he asked.  
  
"Alex and Race," Slider told him before I could quiet her.  
  
Jack turned towards me and feigned hurt, "Ya mean dere is somethin' goin' on? And ya lied ta me? I thought I could trust ya, Conlon, I really did."  
  
The girls around me gasped and Jack caught his mistake, but it was too late. Mouth asked amazed, "Ya name's Conlon? Ya related ta Spot?"  
  
"Yeah, Michael, --er, I mean Spot-- is my brother. Sorry, I was trying to hide it, but apparently Jack here isn't too good at keeping secrets."  
  
"No, dat he isn't. But if Spot's ya bruddah, why ya stayin' in 'Hattan with us?" Fingers asked confused. After the words parted form her mouth she realized that she probably hadn't said the best thing that she could have.  
  
"He doesn't want me," I told her, looking away. Racetrack walked up and put a comforting arm around my shoulder. Despite the seriousness of the moment before, no one could help but raise their eyebrows at this. Jack even went as far as to whistle before I yelled at him to shut up.  
  
I buried my head slightly in Racetrack's comforting arm and tried to hide the tears welling up in my eyes from talking about Michael. He whispered soothingly in my ear, "'S okay. I'll take care of ya."  
  
Jack overheard and shocked me with the news that, "Ya don' have ta, Race. Spot says he wants ta see her, wants her dere. He wants ta apologize for what he said before, and he wants ya ta know dat he's sorry for runnin' off. He told me dat's why he didn't want ta see ya at first, 'cause he regretted not lettin' ya know. I'll take ya dere meself if ya want."  
  
I smiled in tacit agreement and Jack took my hand, leading me off in the direction which I could only assume was Brooklyn. In the background I heard the girls questioning Racetrack on whether there was a relationship between us or not, but I was too far away to hear the answer.  
  
"So, does this mean I won't get to come back to Manhattan?" I asked conversationally on the long walk across the Brooklyn Bridge.  
  
"Of course not. You'll see us more den ya evah wanted ta. I bet ya you'll be sick of us and wish ya didn't see us aftah a little while." Suddenly, Jack turned and faced the edge of the bridge. He beckoned me over. "Check dis out," he told me before leaning over the edge and yelling. I hesitated, but joined him a second later. The proper ladies and gents around us stared, but it was worth it. I was having fun, and that was something I couldn't say of the past few weeks of my life.  
  
You see, my father had been in trouble with the government for not paying his taxes. Then all the stores came wanting to collection their bills. My father couldn't pay, so we had to cower in fear when anyone knocked on the door. I had to leave when the police started looking for him, and that was what got me here.  
  
"Heah we are," Jack announced when we got to the docks. I saw Spot sitting on his post, but when he noticed us he started his way down and walked towards us.  
  
"Ya brought her?" he shouted to Jack, obviously not having seen me standing behind the tall boy. "She still mad?"  
  
"Yeah, she's heah, and no, she ain't mad. I don' think," Jack told him.  
  
"I am mad, but I'm willing to forgive you over time," I cut in as I stepped out from behind Jack to face Michael.  
  
"I'm willing to wait, but we's got some talkin' ta do. If ya don' mind, Jack?" he asked and Jack walked over to another Brooklyn newsie and started talking about some great show at Irving Hall, wherever that was. Michael took my hand and dragged me away from the rest of the boys into a room that was evidently his. "So, what brings ya heah?" he asked.  
  
I told him the full story of Father and that I'd been sent of with directions to find him. The story spilled out while Michael listening patiently.  
  
Finally he spoke. "I'll make sure you're alright. I'll take care of ya. You'se me family aftah all," he promised.  
A/N: All right, well here's some more. Hope you liked it!  
Shoutouts:  
  
Priscilla- Thanks for the suggestions, I'll take them into consideration. I'm really not good with titles and those are good but as of now I'm not too sure what direction this will take, so I'm still a little hesitant. Thanks!  
  
Firecracker- You're saying I don't update enough? LOL. I update almost once a day! I hope you're writer's block goes away, 'cause it sucks to have writer's block, I would know.  
  
Sprite- No problem putting you in. I figure this time you can have Mush. ( Happy (slightly late) birthday!!  
  
Apologies to anyone that reviewed my story that didn't get a shout-out. I had to use the fanfiction.net list of my reviews because I couldn't get to my email, and they update really slowly.  
  
A/N: Okay, so apparently someone thinks that this story is a plagiarism is Raeghann's work as well. Well, just to clear that up, this one really isn't. It wasn't even inspired by Raeghann's other work (no offense meant to Raeghann, who has inspired me to write, but just not this particular plot line.) instead it is based on a fan-fiction by my friend Mouth da Incredible (check out her story, its good). She put me as Spot's sister in her story and I decided to run with it - with her complete and total permission of course. Just wanting to let you know that despite the fact that Raeghann's work is amazing, that is not where this story came from. Its been formulating itself in my head for over a month, since I first read my friends story (way back before it was posted). 


	7. Welcome To This Side Of Life

"Just answer one question for me. Why did you leave?" I asked Michael later that night while we were talking.  
  
"I jus' didn' belong wit' all da hoity-toity gents, ya know?" he answered.  
  
I looked him straight in the eyes with a look that he later told me burned his skin, and said, "You're lying. I stayed as long as it was safe to stay and I didn't belong in that crowd either. You would have been fine."  
  
Michael leaned over and whispered softly in my ear, "He didn' want me. He wanted some goil he could dress up like a doll, he nevah wanted a son. Do ya have any idea what its like ta know dat da person dat close to ya don't want ya dere?"  
  
I looked him dead on again. "Yes, yes I do."  
  
I could tell from the look in his eyes that what I said had hurt him, and he stood up from the bed that we were sitting on. "I'm goin' ta bed," he announced.  
  
I flopped back onto the pillow of what was now my bunk in the Brooklyn lodging house. I turned over on my back and sleep came in a matter of minutes. The next thing I knew, I was being woken up by Michael's shouts.  
  
"Up, lazy cods! Alexandra! Get ya lazy self outta bed. You'se me sistah, ya should be able ta get up early!" he was yelling out.  
  
The voices made me sit up quickly, banging my head on the bunk above me. "Darn it, Michael!" I yelled at my brother. I wasn't one to swear, because, despite what my not-too-great manners led people to believe, I was in no way a vulgar girl, and only vulgar young women swore.  
  
I heard a chuckle coming from the left side of my bed, but I couldn't see who it was talking. Then I heard the voice that was somewhat recognizable after only two days. It was saying, "Foist of all, its damn it. Learn ta swear if ya gonna get anywheah heah. Damn it. Ya got dat? And secondly, don' evah let Spot heah ya callin' him Michael, 'less ya want ta get ta know his fist bettah. Jus' a warnin'."  
  
I laughed. "Hey Race! How'd you get here this early?"  
  
"Easy," he told me, "Slept heah las' night. Wanted ta be heah in case ya needed ta come back ta 'Hattan for whatevah reason. Ya know?"  
  
"Thanks," I said in response. He smiled, at least until Spot approached.  
  
"And why would she want ta go back?" he demanded. "She's me sistah, ya think she wouldn' want ta stay wit' me? Ya think I ain't good enough for her? Ya want her all ta yaself?"  
  
"It ain't like dat Spot. It's jus', what if ya didn' have a place for her and she needed ta stay in 'Hattan 'till ya could make one for her? Somethin' like dat," Race said before turning to speak to me. "Alex, ya ready ta go sell?"  
  
Before I could even answer, Michael cut in defensively, "She ain't sellin' wit' ya. She's gonna go get some woik clothes wit' Slidah and Mouth."  
  
Race laughed. "What do Slidah an' Mouth know 'bout women's clothin'? I think ya know more just from takin' it off. Or, at least when it comes ta Sli," Race told Mike with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Let's just not talk 'bout Devy right now, all right?" Spot said, trying to change the subject.  
  
I looked at Racetrack questioningly and he explained, "Devy is Apple's real name. Short for devil. Everyone calls her Devy 'cept Patch 'cause she don' think its right ta name a child Devil."  
  
"Can we just leave Dev outta dis please? She's goin' ta buy clothes wit' Mouth and Sli and dat's final. Higgins, you can take her ta da goils lodgin' house."  
  
"Woiks for me," Race said before dragging me out the door and into the street. I was too tired to really talk about anything, so I just listened to Race tell stories about the strike all the newsies were in the year before. I laughed when he told me about Brooklyn running in with slingshots, and how one of the boys hit a fat man in the rear.  
  
"Finally, what took ya so long? One of Spot's boys already told us you'se was comin' twenty minutes ago. Brooklyn ain't more den fifteen minutes away!" Slider yelled out the window as we approached the girls lodging house.  
  
Mouth leaned out the other window and shouted, "Did ya stop in an alleyway or somethin'?" She raised her eyebrows and winked at Race. After she and Slider had a good laugh at my expense she said, "All right, well, scat Race. We's 'bout ta make Alex heah inta a beautiful princess," and then promptly started laughing, and again I was paying the price.  
  
"Sure, she won't be a princess, but she'll always be beautiful," Race said, more in a protective brotherly way than in a lover sense, but of course Mouth and Slider didn't think that at all. He walked off to multiple catcalls and hoots.  
  
"Ah, can it!" I shouted before starting up the stairs to the room where they were standing. When I reached them I said, "Are we going shopping or what? I'm anxious to get into some more comfortable clothes.  
  
With that, we set off, the girls passing bits of gossip back and forth between each other as we walked. I managed to pick up a few bits of gossip, including that Sprite and Mush had recently hooked up at a party, but nothing of consequence to me. Race was, as always, single and not necessarily desired. The girls felt a great need to keep pointing that fact out to me. Finally, we reached a stretch of street covered in clothing stores. Quickly the girls picked a store that had a simple sign saying, "Working Women's Apparel."  
  
"Why do I have to dress as a woman when the rest of you get to wear men's clothing?" I asked them as we walked inside.  
  
"Well, when we sell, we pretend ta be men. Most of da time people believe us. It would be challengin' ta conceal ya gender, even wit' a loose shoit. You'se very, um, developed," Slider explained.  
  
Mouth added, "An', Spot wants ya ta stay ladylike. Don' know why, I always figured he'd want anyone related ta him ta be tough, but it seems he wants ya ta stay somewhat feminine."  
  
"Who understands Spot anyway," Slider muttered, half to herself.  
  
Mouth responded, "I used to figure that you did, Sli, but it seems ya don't. Dev might when she gets oldah. Aftah all, she's half his."  
  
"Can we please not talk 'bout Devy right now?" Slider asked, reminding me of Michael saying the exact same thing about the child earlier that day. "I also don' think Alex ovah dere wants ta heah 'bout her bruddah's child. I know I wouldn' want ta heah 'bout Karth's babies, dat is if he could get a goil ta have his." She smirked, then explained, "Karth's me bruddah. He's a Harlem boy, but Harlem don' have a goils lodgin' house so I stay heah in 'Hattan. If ya came a day earlier ya could've met 'em, big party wit' all da boroughs two nights ago."  
  
"May I help you?" a young woman cut in. "May I ask what you're here for? Which one of you?"  
  
"Dat'd be her," Mouth said, pointing to me. "She needs some clothes appropriate for a woikin' goil, what she got's a little much, ya know?"  
  
"Another of Jack's crazy goils he brings in from da streets?" she asked, slipping into her more native tongue.  
  
"Nope, Blink found her. And dis gets bettah, she's Spot's sistah," Slider told the lady who laughed.  
  
"I am right here you know," I told them. My main pet peeve is when people talk about you as if you aren't there and you're standing right in front of them. I just plain can't stand that.  
  
"Sorry," the woman that worked there said, "Me name's Hailie, by the way. I woik heah, if ya couldn't tell. Let's get ya fitted for some clothin'."  
  
She pulled out a measuring tape and started measuring my body crudely. I knew already that it wouldn't be a custom made silk dress, or anything remotely close, but a practical working class dress that was altered to fit me.  
  
"I have some things dat might fit ya without many altercations. Lemme go get 'em," she said before walking off. She returned a minute later with three skirts in blue, black and red as well as three tops of the same colors. "Ya like 'em?" she asked, seeing the smile that lit up my face when I saw the fabric.  
  
"Those of my favorite colors," I stated. "And not in bad condition," I commented while I stepped into the dress and she pinned it at the right measurements. She took the dress to a sewing machine and turned to Slider. "Sli, I'd take dat goil ta get new shoes, wintah ain't ovah yet, and dose fancy shoes'll die in less than a week with wear. I'll be done with dese in an hour or so."  
  
We all called out thanks to Hailie and walked out of the store. We went into a store and bought me shoes as well, with the money in the small pouch I had brought with me. I stopped in front of a man selling ice cream.  
  
"Come here girls, this is my treat," I said to Slider and Mouth as I bought three ice creams from the vendor. I handed one to each of them and started eating mine. "Wish I had money for one for Hailie," I murmured out loud, and the vendor looked at me.  
  
"I ain't supposed ta do dis, but I think I should. Don' tell anyone, but heah's an extra bit of ice cream for ya friend. You'se a pretty goil, ya deserve it," he said and handed me more ice cream.  
  
As we walked off Slider teased, "Oh, Race has some competition now doesn't he?"  
  
"That vendor so wanted you. If we hadn't been wit' ya he would've taken ya into an alley somewheah," Mouth added as we reached the door to the clothing store again.  
  
"Here's some ice cream," I said, handing the treat to Hailie.  
  
Slider, unable to leave it at that, added, "Enjoy it, she nearly lost some innocence ta get it for ya."  
  
"You didn't-" Hailie started.  
  
Slider cut her off, "Nah, nah. But she would've if we weren't dere ta protect her. We's gonna have ta get her ta look less clean an' desirable. Dose men is all ovah her out dere."  
  
I laughed. No man had ever desired me at all before. "I think you're mistaken, no man has ever wanted anything to do with me before in my life."  
  
"Welcome to this side of life," Mouth said. "You'se obviously a woman and dey're all ovah ya. Don' mattah what ya look like. Aftah all, dey wanted Sli when I foist got her."  
  
We laughed and joked the rest of the time Hailie finished her ice cream and the clothing. Eventually, she was done, and it was time for us to head back to Manhattan and me to Brooklyn.  
  
"Ya wanna get tagether some othah time? I can talk ta Spot if ya want," Slider offered as we were walking.  
  
"I'd like that," I answered. At that point, Race came and slipped his arm into mine, pretending to be a proper escort and walked me across the Brooklyn Bridge and back to Michael's place.  
  
But Mouth's words kept echoing in my head, "Welcome to this side of life." I knew they held truth. This wasn't just a game I was playing, this was life, and it was about to make some serious changes.  
A/N: Again, no time for shout-outs because I have to leave for school in five minutes, but I figure you're more interested in reading the story than the shout-outs, so here's some of the story.  
  
Review!! Please!!  
  
And those of you that write stories that you know I read, UPDATE!!  
  
CTB, SparkHiggins 


	8. Becoming Spark

"Michael! When do I get to sell?" I begged for what must have been the forth time that week. I'd been with the Brooklyn newsies for five days and I had yet to spend a day selling. I was anxious to try my hand at it and earn my keep.  
  
He sighed and answered, "Hopefully nevah. Ya don' understand, sellin' ain't for goils, its hard woik and there are frequent fights. I wanna protect ya from dat."  
  
"I know ya mean well, but ya can't keep her imprisoned," Roman said as he walked by. Roman was another boy at the lodging house, and him and I had become very close since I had first gotten there. "She already looks da part, an' she's a goil, da boys won' beat up on her."  
  
"Dat's da problem. Ya see, she's me sistah, an' dat makes her more vulnerable," Michael said, and I looked up hopefully, thinking that possibly he cared about my safety instead of his reputation. My hopes were dashed when he continued, "I can't have dat sort of weakness. Dey'd have me on a collar, and I'se Spot Conlon, I can't be like dat."  
  
I looked at him. "You aren't Spot. You're Michael. You're my brother Michael. And let me just tell you, Michael was never as much as an asshole as you."  
  
"Don' ya evah swear again, Alex! Ma's rollin' ovah in her grave listenin' ta ya speakin' so vulgar!" he shouted.  
  
That was the final straw. I slapped him, and turned on my heel. I slipped past the boys and girls that had formed a crowd around us and walked out the door. I started towards the Bridge, walking across and over to Manhattan. I figured that at least people there cared about me.  
  
"Wha' ya doin' ovah heah?" I heard a boy ask. I turned around to see another boy that had been in the bunkroom when I went there with Blink the first time. "Alex, right?" I nodded. "Race told me 'bout ya. I'se Mush, by the way."  
  
"Hi, Mush. Speaking of Higgins, have you seen him lately?" I asked, looking around for the familiar crop of dark curls.  
  
"I think he was heading towards Sheepshead earlier. Want me to take you?" I told me that yes, I would be very thankful. "If ya don' mind me askin', you'se Spot's sistah, right? Dat would mean you'se in Brooklyn, why ya ovah heah?"  
  
"Spot and I aren't getting along too well right now. He finds me more of a hindrance than help. Wouldn't let me sell because someone might use me against him," I answered.  
  
His eyes gleamed with honesty as he told me, "In truth, Jack talked ta Spot a couple days ago. He means well, he jus' don' know what ta do with ya. Don' think he's evah been given a goil ta worry 'bout before. He doesn't like ta have Devy with him, 'cause he believes that some of the gangs'll take her an' use her as ransom. I think he's worried 'bout da same thing wit' you."  
  
"I know, I just can't handle having people fussing about me twenty-four seven. I didn't ask for any of this," I ranted.  
  
"I know," Mush said softly, patting my back. I knew he must have had much experience comforting girls. I could tell that while he could probably just have all the angles necessary and fake it, there was a sincerity that rang throughout his voice when he talked to me.  
  
"Thank you," I said as we reached Sheepshead.  
  
"We's heah now. Ya think ya can find Race on ya own?" Mush asked. I nodded. "Sorry ta head off, but I still got twenty or so papes ta sell."  
  
"Its all right," I promised. "I'll find him on my own," I said as I headed off in the crowd, listening for the thick accent I always found comforting. I grinned when I heard him hawking. "Woman births a cow!" he shouted. I grabbed a paper from him, finding the original headline.  
  
"Female Cow Proud Mother?" I questioned.  
  
He snatched the paper back. "Ain't much ta woik with, I know, I noticed. What ya doin' down heah? Thought things were goin' well wit' Spot in Brooklyn."  
  
"We just butt heads every once in a while," I said defensively.  
  
He grinned, evidently very amused. "I see. You know, you definitely spark some controversy heah." He explained. "Newsie name, ya know?"  
  
"Controversy or Spark?" I asked him.  
  
"Spark. Controversy's nice an' all, but I think Spark suits ya more. Ya know?" he answered.  
  
"I like it. Spark, spark, spark," I muttered, trying it out. It rolled off my tongue with a pleasing vibration. I laughed, "Sorry, I'm such a nerd."  
  
"No, no you ain't. We's all like dat when we get our nicknames. It makes ya belong, don' it?" he said. I loved how he always knew how to make me feel better about sounding stupid. "I like Controversy though, I'll keep it in mind for somethin' else."  
  
"Maybe ya future child," Race joked.  
  
I laughed. "I don't plan on having any children any time soon," I told him.  
  
"Ya nevah know. Livin' wit' us newsies changes a goil, ya know?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure about that one. I don't plan on having a child until I have a ring on this finger," I said firmly.  
  
"Da boys'll be disappointed, I know I am," he said in a tone that made it impossible to tell whether he was joking or completely serious. Almost in answer to my question, he said, "I'se serious ya know." He winked. Completely changing the subject he said, "Well, let's go find the other boys."  
  
"Let's," I said, and walked with him back towards Tibby's.  
  
Right when I walked in I noticed Michael standing in the corner waiting expectantly. "You comin' back wit' me?" he asked as I walked in the door.  
  
"Maybe, maybe not," I answered, wanting to defy his authority. It was a habit I couldn't break, despite many people trying to rid me of it. He looked at me sternly and I obliged, "All right, I'll come."  
  
"Good. But foist I got ta talk ta Jacky-boy." He turned to Jack. "Kelly, we gots a borough meetin' dis weekend. Take three of ya men. Its out in Queens, since they're a neutral territory most of da time. I gots ta take Alex back, so I'll see you then."  
  
"She ain't Alex any more," Race cut in. "It's Spark now."  
  
"Ya named her?" Spot asked, though for once I didn't sense any hostility in the question. "Ya did well, boy. Ya did well. Nice name Spark."  
  
"You too, Spot," I said. He looked shocked, but tried not to show it. Since I'd gotten my name, I might as well call Michael his real name. Sure, I'd always think of him as Michael, but I could address him as Spot at the very least. "Now, we goin' or what?"  
  
"Yeah, let's go."  
  
Once we were out the door and walking back towards Brooklyn I asked Michael, "So what's this borough meeting you were telling Jack about?"  
  
"I need ta talk to ya 'bout dat. Ya see, every once in a while, all da boroughs get dere best men tagether ta talk 'bout boundaries and solve conflicts." I looked at him in shock and he laughed. "Ya don't think we solve everythin' wit' fists, do ya? Anyway, we've got one comin' up dis weekend, an' I was wonderin' if ya wanted ta come along. I think you'd be good, 'cause woman can keep level heads in dat sort of situation. Ya wanna come?"  
  
"Sure," I promised. "Sounds like some decent fun."  
  
"Oh, you don't know half of it. Dey have parties an' stuff every night. It's like a social gatherin', but we get some woik done too. An' some of da Queens newsies are musical, so we'se likely ta have a band dis time, meanin' some dances."  
  
Happily, I commented, "Oh, good. I haven't been to a party in ages, I really need a celebration." I couldn't help but add, "But what am I going to wear?"  
  
"Ugh," Spot groaned. "Women."  
  
"Ya know ya love us," I teased.  
  
"Only some."  
  
"Slidah?" I asked him.  
  
"Yeah, an' Devy of course," he said.  
  
"Ya love Sli or do ya just tolerate her 'cause of Dev?"  
  
In a soft whisper that I almost missed, he confessed, "I think I love her. But she don' even know I exist."  
  
"She does," I assured him. "An' if she don' I'll make sure she does soon." I knew he was uncomfortable with the subject at hand, so I changed it. "So, who else are you taking to the meeting?"  
  
"You, Roman, and probably Chant." Honestly, I had no idea who Chant was. I looked at Michael with questioning eyes and he explained, "Da tall gangly one dat's close friends wit' Checkah an' Thread."  
  
"Oh, yeah, I think I know who that is. So we leave in two days?"  
  
"Yep, I recommend ya start gettin' ready. Why don' ya do dat while I sell da afternoon papes?"  
  
I agreed with a simple "Yes," and walked up to my room, starting to think about the event that was to come.  
  
A/N: My chapters are actually getting slightly longer, I'm so proud. Haha, well that's all I have to say, byya!  
  
Shoutouts-  
  
Anonymous- I know Raeghann started a story that was from the perspective of Spot's sister, but this is based on me being put as Spot's sister in a different story (I have that person's permission to do that as well). However, just to be on the safe side, I am not reading any of Raeghann's story until after I finish this one.  
  
Sli- WMS, you know it. And WSM, of course. Haha. Wait, my number is on a cow? Which number: cell or house? Damn you!  
  
Sprite- Yeah, I know what you mean about being busy. I hope you get to post some this weekend, I'll be on the lookout for it. Glad ya like my work, and that you review. Thanks!!  
  
Fingers- I'm sure we'll meet Smith soon enough. I love Smith and his wondrous muscles that almost compare to Aaron Lohr's (though not quite). Haha. See you on Monday I guess. Byya! 


	9. Bit Of A Disagreement'

"Are we there yet?" I complained for about the fiftieth time since we left.  
  
"Will ya stop whinin' yet?" Chant said angrily. I glared at him and he glared back. "Spot, why'd ya hafta bring her?"  
  
"She's me sistah, watch ya mouth," Spot said back to Chant. "Da real mystery is why I brought you."  
  
"'Cause he's got an amazin' head for figures," Roman offered.  
  
I sighed. "You know, this isn't going to be pleasant if we can't put aside our differences and get along," I told them.  
  
"That is such a woman thing to say," Chant muttered under his breath, but we all still heard him.  
  
"Ah, shut up Chant. Jus' 'cause ya can't get a single goil don' mean dey's all dat bad," Spot said frustrated. I could tell he was frustrated because he gripped and released his fist several times in an effort to keep from punching Chant.  
  
"Ya wanna make somethin' outta dis?" Chant challenged.  
  
"Yeah, I do. No one insults a Conlon and gets away with it!" Spot ranted.  
  
"Boys, boys. Calm down. I'm not the person you should be fighting over," I said calmly. I had learned from experience that being calm was a good way to make others around you calm down as well. It didn't seem to be working here however.  
  
"Shut up, 'Lex. Ya don' understand, dis is a mattah of pride," Spot said to me.  
  
"You're going to get yourself killed!" I exclaimed. "Michael, I know you're strong, but Chant's twice your size," I whispered in my brother's ear. "Please just give it up."  
  
"I ain't gonna fight ya," Michael said. "But get da hell outta me sight, you'se ain't Brooklyn material," he ordered.  
  
"I don' want ta be 'Brooklyn material'," Chant yelled, storming away from our group.  
  
"Shit," Michael swore, and I understood why. Chant would grudge against Brooklyn for forever, and we would have to deal with it. He might even be crazy enough to try to attack the borough. Taking control Michael said, "All right, Roman, you go get Smith. He'll take Chant's place. For now Spark an' I will keep goin' so we don' arrive too late. Don' wanna seem rude."  
  
"Of course," Roman answered respectfully and took us as fast as Chant, but for entirely different reasons.  
  
"He'll be back," Michael told me as we walked.  
  
"I know."  
  
"He wants revenge," he continued.  
  
"I know."  
  
He smiled in admiration and hugged me. "I'se glad ya so brave, 'Lex."  
  
I stood there in shock. Sure, I knew Michael loved me, but he'd never made any attempt to demonstrate that physically until just then. I smiled and we kept walking, a new feeling of belonging warming me.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Wha' took ya so long?" I heard Race's voice ask as we walked in the door. So he was here. I wondered who else was. I heard voices coming from inside a closed room and figured that was where the others were.  
  
"Bit of a 'disagreement' with Chant back on da bridge," Spot said shortly.  
  
"Ah," Race said, nodding in understanding. Something about the way he was leaning on the wall made my heart stop beating for a moment. When it started again it had sped up way past the normal rate. "Ya comin' inside, Spark? 'Cause if ya are, why don't ya close da door," he said and I realized that I had forgotten to close the door behind me from watching him.  
  
'Darn it, Alex. What am I thinking? This is Racetrack Higgins we're talking about! Chances are he's already fathered fifty children. That's what the newsboys are like. Running amuck and charming girls into losing their innocence, then sticking them with a child. And then they move onto the next one. And Race definitely earns the reputation of a flirt. He isn't interested in me, most likely. Just thinks I'm there for a night of pleasure and back out of his life. I don't know what I was thinking even letting myself get as close to him as I have. And we're just on a friendship basis. I've got to stop thinking about him that way. I have to. I don't know why I even thought about him like that for a minute. I'm so stupid.' I thought to myself as he led me into the room the others were in.  
  
People were crowded around a small circular wood table talking. I recognized Slider, Jack, and Fingers from Manhattan. A moment later Roman and Smith burst in. "Sorry we's late. Lost a boy midway heah an' had ta get reinforcements," Roman blurted out as he sat down." The other boys (and girls) acknowledged him with a nod and after a moment the talking resumed.  
  
As far as I could tell, they were discussing the boundaries of the various territories. Who could sell where, and things like that. Most of it was worked out peacefully, though a couple of fights were scheduled to follow and sort out a few arguments. 'Boys will be boys,' I thought to myself; I smirked.  
  
"Ya comin'? Dere's a party tanight, an' Sli an' I wanted thought ya might wnana get ready wit' us an' some of da uddah goils 'stead of Spot an' dat crew," Fingers offered.  
  
"Sounds good," I said. "Let me just grab my clothes." I picked up the bag I had left sitting outside the door to the room and followed her up the stairs to a room that already had three or four girls inside.  
  
"Dat's Lib. Short for Libation, but none of us is quite sure what dat means," Slider introduced a dark haired girl sitting on a bed nearby, trying to put her hair up in an intricate pattern she had undoubtedly seen on some proper lady. "Da goil tryin' ta kill herself is Bill," she said, pointing to a rather tall blonde struggling into a corset. "An' dat dere is Rose, she's da sistah of da woman dat runs dis place." The third girl had titan colored hair and was already dressed in a black and red ensemble.  
  
"I'm not that great with names, but I'm sure I'll get it sooner or later," I told her.  
  
"I'm sure ya will, but for now, we gots a party ta get ready for," Fingers said. She slipped into a deep blue dress and was immediately transformed from a dirty boyish girl to a beautiful young woman. "I look dat bad?" she asked when she noticed me staring.  
  
"Quite the contrary," I told her.  
  
"What da hell does contrary mean?" she asked and I laughed. The word laugh pretty much sums up the rest of the period spent getting ready. We just joked and had fun as we dolled ourselves up for an exciting night.  
  
In the end, all of us looked like proper young ladies again. Slider in an all black dress and a necklace with a black stone, and I saw her hair hanging down for the first time. Fingers had also left her hair down, but had pulled some of it back; the dark blue dress made her glow somehow. Rose was still wearing her black skirt and red top while Lib was in a pure white outfit that gave her an angelic look. Bill had stuffed herself into the corset and a ridiculously frivolous yellow dress with lace trim. I wore the dress I had originally showed up in, an elegant deep green gown.  
  
I felt like I fit in as we stood there in our beautiful dresses. Again I felt that sense of belonging I had felt earlier. I smiled as we approached the door and hurried down the stairs, every boy in the room had his eyes on us.  
  
A/N: Nothing to say. Hope ya like it. I'm on updating frenzy for this one (however WUAS is on hiatus because I'm collaborating with a friend to write the fight scene, since I'm not good with that sort of thing. I don't want to sugar-coat it, so I'm getting her help.)  
  
Shoutouts-  
  
Sli- Snide and sarcastic remarks, eh?  
  
I feel so odd only having one extremely short shout-out. Oh well.  
  
You've done the first 'R' so please do the second. Review! 


	10. Party Time

"Lookin' good," I heard a boy say to Bill. Another came up and took Lib away. After a few more moments Smith had snatched Fingers.  
  
I saw Michael gazing longingly at Slider. I turned to her and said, "Go talk to Spot. Please. Just give him a chance again. He really cares about you." She thanked me and walked of towards him, leaving just me and Rose.  
  
"I'm gonna go find me man, Type. He's gotta be heah somewheah. Seeya goil," Rose said and walked off to find a tall dark haired boy who looked to be some degree of Asian.  
  
I stood alone like a goofy fool, watching on the girls dancing and the boys drinking and making fools of themselves. It seemed that the ratio was closer than it had seemed earlier because the Queens girls had joined the party, while the Queens boys that weren't involved had mostly been kicked out, since they weren't part of the meeting. I glanced around, my eyes searching for Racetrack's short but near-perfect frame. I couldn't find him until I heard a voice in my ear. The heavy New York accent whispered, "Lookin' for someone?"  
  
"Not particularly, no," I lied.  
  
"Ya know ya were lookin' for me," he said, spinning me around so that I was facing him.  
  
"Don't hold yourself in too high of esteem," I teased softly. It was hard to say anything at a less than soft level when he was standing in such a close proximity. I was leaned against a wall under the stairs with his arm propped on the left supporting him. He was leaning in so that his face was only inches from mine.  
  
I zeroed in on his lips as he spoke. "Ya know ya want me," they said, forming the words perfectly. I was sure he could hear my beating heart, it was that loud. "I'm slowly seducin' ya, ya just wait. But for the moment, ya want ta dance?" he asked, offering his hand. I took it and he dragged me out into the crowd. The boys that had formed a makeshift band were now playing a slow love ballad. We started dancing slowly, rocking back and force to the rhythm. "See, you're enjoyin' it. I'se already got ya hooked," he commented.  
  
"Don't think you've got me quite yet, Higgins," I lied once again. Again my eyes focused on his mouth as he responded.  
  
"Ya eyes seem ta be sayin' its only a mattah of time," he told me with a smirk. He leaned closer into me, our bodies moving together in perfect time. By now I was sure that my heartbeat was betraying me, that he could feel it through my dress. "By da way, ya look great tonight," he whispered in my ear.  
  
"Higgins, get off me sistah," Spot demanded as the song ended. "Songs up, release her. Ya don' need ta hold her that close ta dance anyway."  
  
"I'm sorry," Race told him. "I guess I let my desires get a hold on me. I'll try not ta let it happen again."  
  
"Ya bettah do bettah den tryin' or dere'll be bloodshed," he growled. "Spark, I think dat dis was enough for tanight. Go upstairs an' go ta sleep," Michael ordered.  
  
"Don' ordah da goil around, Spot. She's ya sistah, not ya slave. An' she deserves a little fun," Race said.  
  
"Not da kinda fun you want ta give her, Higgins," he said angrily. I could tell this was heading for a fight.  
  
Trying my best to mediate I spoke up, "If either of you so much as touching a hair on the other's head you'll have me to deal with. And let me tell you that an angry woman is ten times worse than the most muscular of bums and scabbers you always fight. Got that?" They both nodded so I continued, "Spot, I'm going to enjoy the rest of the night as much as I want to, but I promise I won't do something like that again. Fair enough?" Again they nodded.  
  
Slider walked up. "Well handled, Spark," she praised. "Ya definitely got somethin' in ya, but I don' know what it is yet." She walked off again to comfort Michael.  
  
"I don' know either, but I'se willin' ta find out," Race said before planting a light kiss on my lips. I looked up at him, craving more. I could tell from the glint in his eye that he felt the same way. "Not heah, Spark. Not now." I hated to admit he was right.  
  
"Soon," was the only word that parted from my lips before I wandered off. I knew that staying near him would lead me to do things that I couldn't do just then. I tried to content myself by dancing with the girls when fast songs came on, but the thought of that quick, forbidden kiss occupied my mind completely.  
  
I didn't even hear when Fingers came up to me until she'd said my name three times. "Spark! Its ending now, let's go back upstairs and call it a night."  
  
I nodded and allowed her to drag me back upstairs as I watched Racetrack talking to Jack about something or another.  
  
Of course, girl talk followed the party. I had grown to expect a gossip-fest after every party and this was no let down. Apparently, Fingers and Smith had hooked up and were planning on getting together again the next weekend. Rose and her boyfriend were still going strong. Lib had kissed some random boy, and nothing had really happened with Bill. Slider and Michael were talking again, but then again, that happened at every party. The big news of the night was the hurried kiss between Higgins and I. The girls couldn't believe it and Slider kept repeating over and over, "I told you so." Which, of course, she had. However, I was glad she was right.  
  
Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins was definitely something else. Something amazing. Something wonderful. As close to perfect as possible and then some. All that night I traced my lips with my finger, remembering. I fell asleep grinning, and woke the next morning with a smile still visible on my face. 


	11. Be Me Goil?

"Someone had too much fun last night," Slider taunted as she shook me awake.  
  
I looked up at her confused. "What?" was my intelligible response. She shook her head laughing.  
  
"Dat goofy grin on ya face. Ya look like a guy dat just got laid."  
  
Defensively I stated, "You were sleeping in the same room as me all night, do you think I did anything? Could I have? That would be a no."  
  
"I'se just playin' wit' ya," she said, taking a step away.  
  
"Of course," I answered good-naturedly.  
  
Fingers walked over. "We all know Sli puts in quite a few excitin' nights."  
  
This comment erupted laughter from all of the girls in our room, me included. That is, until I realized something. "That's my brother you're talking about!" I yelled, very disgusted. My exclamation created even more amusement for the girls, most of whom were doubled over cracking up. "Honestly," I sighed as I walked out the door.  
  
"Spark?" I heard Race call. "Can I talk ta ya for a minute?"  
  
"Of course," I whispered back, before following him into a closet. I had no idea what to expect, and therefore I was nearly shaking with anticipation. I also knew that at any moment Spot, or any other of the newsies, could burst in and find us in a closet. Not exactly a prime situation, eh?  
  
"I wanna see ya, Spark. I wasn't playin' last night when I kissed ya. I ain't da same as I was before you. I used ta use goils, but ya really mean somethin' ta me."  
  
I breathed heavily as I took this in. Racetrack liked me. Not only that, but he liked me as much as I liked him. I asked in a hushed tone, "What are you trying to say?"  
  
I could sense nervousness in his voice as he asked, "Will ya be my goil?"  
  
Speechless, I nodded. He slipped his hand into mine and opened the closet door with both of us grinning. We walked down to the meeting room like that, where heated discussions were already occurring.  
  
"Dis is da part wheah we don' talk business, boys," Jack was saying, trying to calm everyone down. As he was being ignored, he resorted to yelling. "Ya bums! We ain't heah ta fight. Dis is da breakfast, we'se heah ta eat!"  
  
Eventually, the talking died down and boys began to get food from the trays and sit down eating. I found myself seated at a table with all the Brooklyn and Manhattan newsies. Smith and Fingers snuck off at one point during the meal, and I'm pretty sure what happened there. Slider and Michael were once again talking, which I took as a good sign. Race and I exchanged more than one secret smile, and eventually the inevitable happened. Michael noticed.  
  
"What you two know dat I don'?" Spot asked suddenly while Race and I were looking at each other.  
  
"Nothing," I said quickly, at exactly the same time as Race said, "We don' know nothin'."  
  
"Ya do know somethin', an' I gonna find out what it is," he vowed.  
  
"Spot, I love you, but sometimes you can be a stubborn little ass," I told him angrily. After all, I thought, why couldn't I have a guy without him having to know it. He didn't approve of me and Race anyway. I don't think he approved of me with anyone. Except maybe Roman, because Roman knew better than to make a move on me.  
  
"Don' ya evah call me dat. You'se me charge, ya should have some respect for me. I could've thrown ya out on da street when ya came heah."  
  
"You did," I reminded him.  
  
He looked thoughtful for a moment, unable to deny that. When I first came to the area to find him he insulted me and showed no sign of giving me a place to live. "Well, I took ya in da end, didn' I?"  
  
"Exactly. But I didn't know I was signing myself up for prison when I went to live with you," I retorted.  
  
"I'm lookin' out for ya best interests."  
  
"My best interests? Ha! What if being Racetrack's girl is in my best interest, how would you know?" I yelled as I stood up and stormed off. I knocked over my chair, but I didn't care. I wanted to get away from my jailer as fast as possible. I ran into the room I'd been sleeping in and tossed myself onto the bed, sobbing into my pillow.  
  
"Alex?" Race asked in a soft voice.  
  
"Don't come in here. I'm not at my best, this isn't something you want to see," I told him without removing my head from the pillow.  
  
"Too late. I'm already in here. And you don't look bad at all. You're always gorgeous, Spark, you really are," he said, kissing my cheek lightly.  
  
I sat up and noticed that he was sitting at the foot of my bed. "You don't really mean that. And if you want to break up with me over Spot, don't try to sugar coat it."  
  
"What gives you that idea?" he asked hurt. "I ain't plannin' on breakin' up wit' ya. I really care about ya, Alex, and I'm willing ta woik ta make this relationship happen. You're worth the effort. But for now," he said, but never got a chance to finish his sentence, as he kissed me instead.  
  
I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment of passion. All of that passion was for me, I realized. Someone loved me. I'm not exactly a hoity-toity girl that lives to impress boys at parties, but I am quite a hopeless romantic. I always wanted a man to truly care about me, not how much money my family had. I knew Racetrack really did, and that satisfied the romantic in me. I also knew that he was one as well. For even though he hid it around his friends, I could tell from our few moments alone that he was more sensitive and caring than his attitude around the other newsies led everyone to believe. While I was thinking about all of this, the kiss progressed, leaving him half on top of me on the bed. I realized where this was going, and sat up.  
  
"Not yet, Race. I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for this," I said.  
  
He looked slightly disappointed, but changed the look quickly. "I know, I know. I understand. Not ta say I don' want ta if ya change ya mind, but I respect ya wishes. If ya want ta wait, I'll wait."  
  
"Thank you," I whispered. Raising the volume of my voice I said, "Let's go to the meeting now.  
  
Shoutouts (Yay, these never get less fun!!)-  
  
Sprite- Thank you for reviewing. again!! I love getting your reviews, they always make me feel better. And thank you for the review over IM too (ff.net is being evil right now). When you update, I promise really really long reviews from me!!  
  
Fingers- You're together, all right? Now get writing or I shall kill you.  
  
Slider- House number, eh? Is it still there? That must be a great way to meet guys. Haha. Okay, here's responses to your comments in order.  
  
Of course you notice him.  
  
Of course you love him.  
  
We all know Karth is your long lost twin brother!!  
  
Having fun with the damn rights? Yes, yes, Devy is my hero!  
  
My true newsie name? Oh great.  
  
* Dies from laughter as well * Okay, that and the fact that I would so not make Race stop if he was on top of me are where I differ from Ms. Conlon over here. Oh well.  
  
You know it! Brandon knows it too * grins evilly *  
  
I do want to. Well, him and Jeff for that matter. But no, I do have morals. I really do!! Okay, maybe less in this story than in real life though. I have morals! Don't listen to what Brandon tells you!  
  
Spot's not an ass, just protective. He means well, he really does.  
  
The vendor is based on that homeless man in your neighborhood. LOL we were talking about the ghetto today in temple for some reason and I was like, "Yes, I was in the ghetto and this homeless man was staring at me so I walked away and then he followed me and I had to run up this hill and run into my friends house, but when I looked out the window he was still there." Yep, yep.  
Okay, that's all folks. (Can't you just see a little Porky the Pig at the end of each chapter saying that? Haha. Byya!!  
  
CTB,  
  
Alexandra Rachel "Spark" Conlon Higgins (Dude that's a long name!) 


	12. Almost Approval

Negotiations that day were pleasantly easy. I only wish the same could be said for the confrontation between Michael and Race afterwards. Unfortunately, neither boy saw the need for peace the way I did.  
  
"If ya think I'se just gonna stand around an' watch ya court me sistah an' harm her, you'se got no brain at all," my incredibly obnoxious brother shouted across the table to Race after the others had left.  
  
"I have no intention of hoitin' ya sistah, Spot. She means da woild ta me, don' ya believe me?"  
  
"Not particularly, no," Michael said shortly.  
  
"I have only noble intentions for Spark. I'se gonna treat her nice an' polite. On all da honah an' credibility I got I swear it. I ain't gonna make her do nothin' she don' wanna an' I ain't gonna take advantage of her. Dis relationship is more den dat, Spot. I know ya understand 'cause I know its how ya feel 'bout Slidah," Race told him.  
  
"And how is dat?" Michael asked with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Like without her dere's no point in livin'. Like ya need her like ya need air an' da thought of not seein' her tears ya up inside. Dat she's poifect in every way an' ya ain't even worthy of her company, but ya ain't gonna give it up," Racetrack said, the hopeless romantic I had sensed earlier surfacing. "Ya know in ya heart how ya feel about Slidah an' dat its what I jus' described. Now lemme have Alexandra as me goil, please?" he pleaded. I was surprised. Race could be polite, but I didn't sense him as the type to bed.  
  
"Higgins," Michael started, and we both held our breath, "You'se crazy, but I know ya tellin' da truth. If anyone deserves her its you. Ya got me permission, Race, but you do anythin' ta hoit her an' ya got me ta deal with."  
  
"Of course," Race said, nodding his head in agreement. Then he turned to me. "Well, I guess we'll be off, Spark." I smiled and slipped his arm around my shoulders and walked into the dining room with me. "Dere's a good spot," he said. He pointed out a table where Roman, Smith, Fingers, Slider and Jack were sitting.  
  
Jack was the first to comment. "So, ya get Spot's approval, Race?"  
  
"Yeah, if ya want ta call it dat. He promised not ta beat me to a bloody pulp, I guess dat's as close as we'll evah get. We ain't exactly on da best terms, eh?"  
  
"No, ya definitely ain't," Jack said. I looked at him questioningly and he explained, "Yeah's back, Racetrack took some goil an', well, ya know, wit' her. Happened ta be Spot's goil. Nevah really forgave him for dat. Somethin' 'bout humiliation, whatevah dat means."  
  
"Yeah, but I'se changed now. I ain't done nothin' of dat sort of thing in neah two yeahs. I'se more mature now, an' he's still holdin' a grudge. I was fifteen yeahs old!" Race protested. Then his voice softened. "But I gots Spark now, she I'se content," he announced before leaning over and kissing me.  
  
Catcalls and cries of "Oooo ahhh" erupted from the surrounding newsies, causing me to blush the color of the strawberry Jack had been eating. "What, aren't you going to do the same?" I asked jokingly.  
  
"All right," Smith said before pulling Fingers in for a kiss of her own, erupting more whistles. Roman tried to grab Slider, but she pushed him away causing him to fall out of the chair he'd been sitting in.  
  
"Ya tryin' ta get ta me goil?" Michael asked as he burst into the room, lifting Slider gracefully out of the chair and dipping her into a romantic kiss. I looked around the room and noticed various couples had done the same.  
  
I laughed and whispered in Racetrack's ear, "We're trendsetters." We both laughed as we broke apart, other people following suit. The only people still kissing were Michael and Slider, who disappeared up the stairs a moment later.  
  
"Fingers, ya wanna be me goil?" Smith asked. Fingers grinned and accepted, and cheers were heard all around.  
  
A few hours later, Jack rounded everyone up. "All right, we's done wit' dis meetin', so let's all go home!" He turned to the group that I had sat with earlier, "'Hattan an' Brooklyn, we's leavin'."  
  
"Do we have ta?" Roman asked and I could see him eyeing one of the Queens girls.  
  
"I'll come back here with you sometime to check out all the eye candy, all right?" I teased him.  
  
"Don' ya got all ya need right heah?" Race joked.  
  
I smiled. "Yeah, I do," I said before burying my head in the warmth of his jacket, feeling the heartbeat of his built chest. I walked the rest of the way to Manhattan like that, but we were forced to disengage ourselves to go into Irving Hall. Yes, Irving Hall. I was about to see my first Vaudeville show.  
  
A/N: I update this a lot because I have frequent inspiration. In this case it was seeing Jeff (my friend's really hot, fun --and young -- youth director that I love.) at that chili cook-off.  
  
Shoutouts-  
  
Sprite: Nice adjectives. Wonderiffic, I'm going to have to remember that. I love getting your reviews, they make it all worth it, so thank you! Here's a little story on how much I love them:  
  
**There once was a girl named Spark. Every day she would write a new chapter for her stories on fanfiction.net. When she first started, she got no reviews, and was in much despair. Then, one day, she got her first review. It was a cause for jubilation. Soon thereafter, a girl named Sprite came and began to review her story. Every new chapter posted, Spark would check her email waiting for the reviews from anyway, particularly Sprite. Then, some evil people started accusing her work of being plagiarism. Every day she got less and less reviews. But one person stood by her. And that was Sprite. And now, every day she still waits for Sprite's reviews to show up on the Review Alert emails, and every review is still a cause for jubilation**  
  
I hope you enjoy that 'cause it took me ten minutes! I wrote this chapter in like fifteen and my little one paragraph SO took ten. That's so sad. Haha, wel, byya!  
  
That's all folks!  
  
CTB,  
  
Alexandra Rachel "Spark" Conlon Higgins 


	13. Vaudeville Kisses

Boy, was I in for a shock when I got to Irving Hall. I'd never been to a Vaudeville show before, and when I did go to some sort of show I always had impressively good seats. This performance was unlike any other, and we sat backstage by the curtains. I met Medda, the owner of the place, right as we walked in.  
  
"Race, who's your lady friend?" an older woman with even more red hair than Mouth asked as we walked in the door.  
  
"Dis heah is Spark. She's me goil." With slight hesitations Racetrack added, "An' she's Spot's sistah."  
  
I picked up a slight look-out-for-yourself in Medda's gaze at Race before she turned to me and stuck out her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Spark. I'm Medda Larkson." Before I had a chance to say anything else she grabbed her vast layers of skirt and rushed towards the stage apologizing and saying, "I have to go on now."  
  
"Let's go watch," Jack said, dragging me and the others towards the side of the stage. Medda was strolling onstage singing a song that was, at best I could tell, titled 'My Lovey-Dovey Baby'. I tried not to laugh as I watched all the Manhattan boys that had joined us rocking their heads back and forth staring in complete bliss.  
  
Medda walked off the stage and I went to talk to her. "You have a fan club, you know," I told her.  
  
"The boys? Yes, well, I must admit it is quite fun. But you've snagged the best one there, girl. Keep a hold on him," she offered in a sisterly manner. "But for now I have to go work the lineup. Come back sometime, I'd love to talk again when I have more time."  
  
"All right. Good luck," I said as she walked off. I went back to Race who was sitting propped up against a barrel. I lay down next to him and leaned my head on his shoulder, ignoring the teasing of all the newsies that didn't know about the two of us yet. "We're already a couple," I told the group that was discussing what a cute couple we would be.  
  
Sprite looked at me in an I-told-you-so manner before congratulating me. Patch laughed and said that maybe we could double date with her and Blink some time. Firecracker said she wasn't surprised, but that we made a great couple. Sli and Fingers already knew, so I got off without too much teasing.  
  
I noticed Firecracker was zoning out and staring off at a group of boys while we talked, so I took her aside. "You looking for someone in particular?" I asked conversationally.  
  
With a sheepish grin she answered, "Yeah, Pie-Eatah."  
  
I looked over at the tall boy laughing with his friends. "You want to go over there and talk to him?"  
  
"I can't," she said. "I'd embarrass myself!"  
  
"Aww. are you shy?" I taunted, but alas, no results. She simply admitted she was shy and turned down my offer once again. "All right, then. I'm going to go over there and talk to him. I won't say anything about you if you don't want me to," I said, praying she wouldn't notice the fingers crossed behind my back.  
  
"Don' say anythin' about me for now," she requested.  
  
I smirked. "Of course not." I walked over to the group of guys, containing Dutchy, Specs, Pie-Eater, and Swifty. "Hey boys, what's going on over here?"  
  
"Nothin' much," Dutchy commented and the others mumbled in agreement.  
  
"Anyone got their eyes on someone?" I asked. They looked at me questioningly. "What? Just trying to get in on the gossip."  
  
"Well," Dutchy said. "I'se inta dis goil." he started, and told me about the girl from Harlem that he met a few weeks prior at a party.  
  
"An' I know someone, her name's Shade. She's from Harlem as well. Its Dutchy's goil's sistah," Specs admitted.  
  
"I'se a free agent at da moment," Swifty said. All that was left was Pie.  
  
"Ya see dat goil ovah dere?" he asked, pointing to Firecracker.  
  
"That is so perfect!" I gushed. He stared at me as if to say, what is your problem. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but she's so into you. Ask her out sometime, but not now or else she'll know I told you."  
  
Pie was grinning like he had won the lottery when I left the group. I clapped my hands together, glad to have successfully achieved something. Race approached me, "What ya doin' ovah dere? Tired of me already?"  
  
"I would never be tired of you," I said sweetly.  
  
He pulled me into a small compartment that was left by the ropes and pulleys from the curtains. "Ya know what I want ta do?" he asked suggestively.  
  
"Not heah. But I can give ya dis," I told him before planting a kiss on him. I don't know how long we kissed, it felt like forever, but suddenly Jack was tapping on my shoulder.  
  
"All right, lovebirds. Shows ovah, let's go," he said. Racetrack and I both blushed a deep shade of red. We followed the others home without another word to anyone.  
  
That night I slept in my old bed in the Manhattan Newsgirls Lodging House instead of trekking back to Brooklyn. Most of the Brooklynites did the same, except in the Newsboys.  
  
I slept like a baby, the perfect end to the perfect day. Sure, it had its downsides, like fighting with my brother, but in the end I was dating the man I liked and had Michael's permission to do so. I'd seen my first Vaudeville show and made out behind the scenes. All in all, it was perfect. Or as close to perfect as any day could ever get, anyway. 


	14. Tryin' Ta Sell

"Ya want ta try ya hand at sellin' wit' us?" Sli offered when she woke me up the next morning. 

After grunting and groaning that it was "way too frickin' early" (I'd reformed my lack of obscene phrases only just a slight bit by then) I told her, "I guess it won't hurt to try." I rolled out of bed and grabbed a hairbrush. "I don't think I'll be too good though," I warned.

"Don' worry 'bout it. Only four newsies sold well da foist day: Jack, Spot, Gray, an' our own Sli. Notice somethin'? Dose are da leadahs of da boroughs 'roud heah. Generally, we woiked hard as hell for da numbah's we sell every day," Fingers said. I couldn't tell if I should be reassured or worried that I wouldn't sell a single paper. 

"It's that hard, eh?" I asked, concern evident in my voice.

"Yeah, but don' worry, Race'll help ya, as long as da two of ya keep ya hands off each uddah long enough ta sell," she teased.

"Did I heah me name?" Race said as he emerged from the doorframe. Shrieks of protest arose as many of the girls had yet to dress, myself included. 

"Get out of here, Race," I said, hiding behind a bunk. "I only have a short slip on."

"I really don' mind," Race joked, and I supposed that if I could see him I would have caught more than a glimpse of his signature sexy grin. Before I had a chance to protest – or button another shirt for that matter – he had his arm on either side of me, pushing me against the bunk. "Well, I definitely picked da right goil," he muttered, looking over my barely covered body before kissing me loftily. 

I fumbled with the buttons on the shirt. "Race, I like you and all, but I don't think I'm ready to do this with you. Or anyone for that matter." 

"I wasn't tryin' ta do nothin'. Jus' jokin' around. I told ya before, I respect ya wishes." He hastily kissed my cheek and left the room, promising to wait outside the door for me. I emerged a moment later, fully dressed, to be greet with, "I think ya looked bettah before."

"Glad to know you like me as more than just a pretty little thing to stare at," I said. 

"I do," he said sincerely. He muttered it again softly, so that I could only just hear him, "I do, I do."

"I know you do. Thank you for waiting, I know this isn't exactly your style."

"Jus' know dat da offah always stands," he said with his patented smirk. I laughed as we approached the Manhattan distribution office. 

"What ya so excited about?" I could hear Jack's commentary as we walked over to the group.

"Jack, dat's me sistah ya talkin' about. Dat just ain't right," Michael said, hitting Jack in a brotherly way. 

Slider walked up from behind us and locked her arms protectively around his waist. This image brought Fire & Pie back to my mind. I scanned the crowd and saw the two of them talking. **'**My work here is done,' I told myself happily.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Firecracker asked when she noticed me staring at the two of them.

"No, no, save it for your papes," I joked. She shrugged it off, obviously not getting the humor, and turned back to Pie-Eater. 

"Ready to sell?" Race asked once he had bought the papers. 

"I guess so," I said nervously, causing him to laugh and reassure me that everyone is bad their first day.

"What about Jack, Spot, and Sli?" I asked, having already forgotten the name of the other boy. 

"Well, dere's dem. An' Gray. But I only sold ten me foist day, and Mush barely made fifteen. Blink was slower, I think he clocked a grand total of five. Had ta eat it latah though, an' dat sucked," he told me, before whipping out a paper. He started hawking headlines, yelling, "Member of Governor's Family Dead: Moider Suspected."

"Can I see the real headline?" I asked when the flock of buyers had come and gone. 

"Governor's Dog Dies Of Food Poisoning?" I questioned. He grinned proudly. "Let me try," I said, scanning the headlines. "Umm.. Lack Of Production Causing Hunger!" I shouted uneasily. Only one man walked over to buy a paper. 

"You're really bad, ya know dat?" Racetrack teased. 

"Shouldn't a boyfriend be supportive of his girl/" I asked, pretending to be upset. 

"Not if its da truth," he teased. "Care ta try again?" 

"Sure," I said hastily. "Goods Not Being Produced: People Starving!" I shouted, drawing two other people. "Not exactly prime results, eh?"

"It ain't a good headline day, you might do bettah on a different day," he encouraged. "For now, let's go meet up wit' da boys and goils at da Greeley statue."

I nodded in agreement and we headed towards the statue that, according to Jack at least, had been the site of most of the key moments of the strike the boys were always talking about.

"How'd ya do?" Michael asked as I walked up with Race. I noticed his gaze drifting to Race's arm, which was draped around my shoulders, before shaking his head and looking away.

"Not too great," I said, holding up the stack that had previously been a stack of ten, that still contained seven papers. "I sold the amazing amount of . . . three papers!" I said sarcastically. 

"Well, only three newies -- " he started. 

"Did well their first day. You, Slider, Jack and Gray," I finished for him. "Is that your only story?" I asked. 

"Of course not! We also have the story of . . . umm . . . what are we talking about again?" a taller brunette boy commented, looking around in a confused manner.

"Ah, pipe down, Skitts. Sure we got different stories, we gots all of our stories of how we got heah, or name stories, not ta mention dose from da strike," Racetrack answered my original question.

"So I heard." I laughed. "Anyway, anything on the agenda tonight?" 

"Well," Jack said thoughtfully. "We've already been to Irving Hall, an' a group of us wanted ta get tagether in a few days ta watch anuddah one, so I think we's all cleared out."

"Sorry ta be breakin' up dis little party, but we bettah be headin' back ta Brooklyn, Alex," Michael said, grabbing my arm and dragging me off in the direction of his true home.

We reached Brooklyn in general silence, except for the choruses of "Heya Spot!" from everyone my brother knew. Which, apparently, was everyone in the entire city of New York. A couple of frivolous young ladies smiled at him, but noticed me and backed off, getting the wrong impression. 

"Will ya back off a bit? Ya scarin' off da ladies," he told me, waving to the girls and trying to re-attract their attention. 

"Have you forgotten the mother of your child?" I asked him, loudly enough for everyone around us to hear. 

"So, sure Sli's good for some fun every once in a while, but she don' want me an' I ain't embarrassin' meself by pushin' da relationship," he said softly, the ladies forgotten for the moment. 

"How do you know she doesn't want more?" 

"She just don'. Trust me on dat one. Aftah dese three yeahs of havin' a child tagethah she don' make any move ta make somethin' outta it. I'se tellin' ya now an' ya ain't evah gonna heah it again. Havin' a baby with someone makes it woise for da relationship. Jus' remembah dat if ya evah tempted. All right?" 

I looked at him, not sure what to say. All I could do was nod my head. I wasn't sure what to think, but I never forgot that advice, whether my later actions proved that or not. 

Shoutouts- Way way way too tired for shout-outs!!

A/N: All right, here's the deal. I started another story (I know, I know) called Voyage in America so check that out. WUAS is still on hiatus while I work on the next chapter, which will be freakishly long so be excited. Tomorrow they are going to perform oral surgery on me so I'll be under the influence of anesthesia for a long part of the day and probably not able to write. 

Everyone whose stories I read- UPDATE!! PLEASE!! I NEED SOMETHING TO READ!!

Peace and love for Dominic,

Spark Higgins


	15. Danger

"C'mon Race, you know I'm not supposed to be here this late!" I informed him, but I think the fact that I was giggling as I said it didn't make it very forceful. I was drinking the hot chocolate we had gotten from Tibby's and pulled under his coat from the freezing cold. The streets were empty with the exception of a few late night stragglers. It was one o'clock, two hours past both of our curfews. I was staying in Manhattan that night though, so I knew that most likely Michael would never find out. 

"Well, neither am I, but we are. An' don' tell me ya ain't enjoyin' yaself." He had me there; I hadn't had this much fun in forever. The rush of being somewhere forbidden with the man of my dreams was amazing. 

Though I didn't want to spoil the moment, I knew I would have to voice my opinions. "I just don't know what Spot would say."  


"Forget ya bruddah for a while. Live for yaself. If ya not havin' fun I'll take ya home, but I know ya are."

"Can't fight you on that one."

He grinned. "I know." We walked through the alleys and towards the lodging house I was supposed to have been sleeping in for the past few hours. "I'll pick ya up tomorrow, but I guess we got ta get some sleep tanight."

I grinned. I kissed his cheek, knowing I was ready to make my big confession. Before I got a chance however I was interrupted. 

Slider was leaning out the window. "Come dis way or we'll all get in trouble. Up da fire escape. Hurry!" 

"G'night," Race said, tipping his hat.

"Night," I answered back as I began my ascent on the ladder and through the window. 

My feet slid onto the floor as Slider grinned, her eyes gleaming in a teasing manner. "Sorry, did I interrupt something down there?" 

I grinned mischievously. "Maybe you did," I said mysteriously and suggestively. That got me hounded by the girls. Every one of them pulled themselves off their bunks and came to the center of the room, begging to know what happened. "Nothing," I confessed when one of them pinned me to the bunk until I admitted it. 

"That's no fun," Mouth said sighing in disappointment.

"Except of course for this," I said, holding up a necklace. Even I realized the significance of the petit crystal dangling from the strap that looked to have once been meant to be a shoelace. A few girls gasped. 

Slider walked over, examining it. "Definitely ain't seen him give somethin' like dis away before. He genuinely likes ya, goil. Don' screw it up."

I smiled. "I don't plan on it," I said truthfully. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to get some sleep." 

Everyone turned back to their respective bed and started to sleep. It came easy for me that night, as I was so happy. I simply turned on my side and was out like a light. 

Oddly enough, I must have been adjusting to newsie time as I woke only a few moments after the sun. "Ya up early goil," Slider, who was already completely ready for the day, commented. "Ya think ya becomin' a newsie."

"Only if being a newsie means selling under ten papers a day." I saw her opening her mouth to speak and I cut in. "And don't you dare tell that story again!"

"I was jus' gonna give ya a tip. If ya want ta sell good, ya might want ta woik on havin' a native accent. Dey like da ones wit' New Yawk blood more," Sli offered.

"Like dis? I don' know that I'll get it right away," I said, trying the accent unsuccessfully. 

"More like dis heah. Try it again."

"What ya want me ta say? I don' know what I should be tryin' ta do heah. Help!" I said, once again attempting to match her accent.

"Ya getting' closah. Keep woikin' on it," she said before standing and waking the rest of the girls that hadn't woken up yet.

"Dat I will do," I promised. "But now we'se got ta meet da guys." 

"Ya tryin' a New Yawk accent?" Mouth questioned as she stood up from her deep slumber. 

"Ya think its workin'?" 

"Well, ya ain't sayin' ya woikin' right, dat's for sure. I think ya got everythin' else pretty well though."

"Workin'," I said, completely missing the accent. 

"Nevah mind, worry 'bout it latah." 

"All right. Ya think they'll notice I'se pretendin'?" I said concerned. 

"Probably. But it don' mattah. Dey won' recognize ya da next day when ya got it right. Dey don' look at us enough ta know," Fingers reassured. Or, at least I think that's how she meant it. You never know. Or, to say it in newsie speak, 'ya nevah know'.

"Lets get a move on!" I heard Slider yelling from the stairwell and hustled to catch up to her. The other girls followed my example. "Excited about goin' ta see lovahboy?" she joked. 

"Why ya say dat?" 

"Ya grinnin' like a maniac," she informed me. I quickly closed the lopsided smile that had appeared on my face. "Dat's bettah." 

"Shut up. Ya know ya just as excited 'bout seein' my bruddah," I taunted.

"_Me_ bruddah," she corrected, trying to get off the current topic. 

"Oh no, no way ya gettin' of like dat. Spill, goil. Ya like **me** bruddah or not. Ya can' leave 'im hangin' like dat." 

"Can we please talk 'bout dis latah?" she said, motioning towards the girls surrounding us.

"If ya promise we really will," I told her.

She spat in her hand and took mine into hers. "Dat's a promise," she said, shaking my hand in a closing manner. 

"Ya seal all deals like dat?" I asked, wiping my hand on my skirt.

"Pretty much, yeah." The people around us nodded in agreement. "Don' worry though, you'll get used ta it. David found it appallin' at foist too, but he got used ta it eventually." 

"I don' blame him," I muttered under my breath. Louder I added, "Sure seems dat dere is a lot to dis job. I think ya deserve more pay, but maybe dat's jus' me." 

"Don' think ya da only person dat thinks dat, but we happy jus' ta get what we get," Firecracker explained. 

"Guess I see wheah ya comin' from. Yet I still think ya should do somethin' 'bout it. I mean, wit' all da factories goin' on strike all da time. . ." I drifted off.

"We can't really afford to strike, ya know? Been dere, done dat," Patch said. "Shuh, ya heah 'bout da high points of da strike, but it wasn't dat easy. All of us spent time in da Refuge."

"I thought Denton got you off," I said, recalling a conversation I'd had with Spot about their getting arrested.

"Didn' keep 'em from holdin' grudges," she grouched. Then, visibly happier, she continued, "Good t'ings come from da bad though. Dat's wheah I met Blink." 

This drew a chorus of "Oohs" and "Awws" from the group around us. 

"What's all da excitement about?" Racetrack asked as he walked up, wrapping his arms around my waist. I clasped his hands and turned to kiss his neck.

"Girl stuff," I joked. "What's da deal for taday? Wheah we sellin'?" I asked, trying out my new accent.

"Ya gettin' more like us every day," he said, laughing. 

Taking this as a good thing I smiled. "Thank ya."

In response he kissed my cheek, causing the girls to sigh and tease once again. Jack walked up to this sight, chuckling himself. "How's a surprise meetin' in Queens sound ta ya?"

"What's da mattah?" Racetrack asked concerned. Everyone, myself included, leaned closer to hear the leader's response.

"Spot's been worried 'bout dat Chant he was tellin' us about. We thinkin' we'll need ta enlist da uddah boroughs." Lowering his voice noticeably, but not enough to block out my very sensitive hearing, "Dat's why he's been lettin' his sistah say wit' us. Don' want her in trouble."

Hearing that, Racetrack tightened his possessive grip around my abdomen. "Ya think she's safe heah?" 

Jack figured by then that I already knew what was going on and raised his voice back to normal. "I don' t'ink so," he said.

A/N: The plot thickens, dun dun dun . . . Anyway, Sorry that took me so long, I was busy finishing off WUAS (which is completed at 22 chapters!) and I had multiple tests today. Either way, it's updated now. Enjoy!

Shoutouts:

Soaker- Sorry this SO is a chapter late. I know, Race is such a cute romantic. I love writing the scenes with him. It's fun. Anyway, really glad you like this! Hope I keep your interest and you keep reading!

Sli- Promise you and Spot will get it all sorted out. At least he talks about how much he loves you! And you got to have his child. BTW: You tell Gray (who I've never even met) that I love him, and I'll tell Royal that you love him (Gray not Royal. Wait, maybe Royal. That's even better.) Hehe. Later!

Firecracker- ^_^ There ya go. But for the record, that is not as fun as XD. Use XD. It's cooler looking. LOL. Yes, yes, you get Pie. Pie is yummy. Whoa, that sounded wrong. The dentist? I think he survived. Maybe. I have to show you my "Get Well" card that the surgery ppl sent me! Its so cool. I'll bring it to school tomorrow. 

Sprite- Haha. Yes, I cannot sell papes. But then again (as we all know by now) only four people could. Haha. You obviously know by now that I'm all good from the surgery, so I won't go into that. I know ff.net wouldn't let you update this weekend, but try to update soon! I'll be watching!

Birdy- I'll work you into my story at the earliest convenience. LOL I just sounded like a dentist's office answering machine. But I will, I'm already thinking about putting you in. I love adding my reviewers into my stories, 'cause I love being in them myself. And Boidy is a fun word. Haha. Later! 


	16. Can we have one?

I sat huddled on the fire escape listening to Racetrack plead to Jack and Spot. "But she's safah wit' us den wit' da people left heah!" 

"Ya just sayin' dat 'cause ya want ta sleep wit' her," Spot spat. I couldn't believe my own brother was talking about me that way! But I had to stay concealed, or a lot of people would get in trouble, namely Sli and Patch who helped get me there. 

"For ya information, Spot, I treat ya sistah bettah then ya treat da goils ya been wit', namely Sli," Racetrack said. He continued, "I tried it once, shuh, but anyone would've. She said she wadn't ready and I stopped. Didn' try again aftah dat, an' I don' plan on it."

"Shuh ya didn'," Spot said unbelievingly. "An' pigs can fly. But anywho," he commented, trying to change the subject. "What are we gonna do 'bout dis, Jacky-boy?"

"Well, I'se thinkin' we gotta take her wit' us. I don' know dat its dat great for her ta come, but I don' think we got a choice. I mean, she's safah if she's wit' da two of us, an' neither of us can stay back from da meetin'." With a meaningful glance and Spot, he sternly reprimended, "Don' even think 'bout sayin' Higgins heah just wants a night a pleasure. He's me boy, I ain't gonna let ya cut 'im down like dat."

Spot tilted his head down in defeat. "All right, we'll take her," he announced. It was all I could do to keep from bursting through the window when I heard footsteps walking towards me. 

Jack opened the window for me however. "Okay, Spark, ya can come out heah now."

"Ya knew I was out there?" I asked innocently. 

He laughed. "We all did. No offense, but ya ain't da quietest. Jus' hope ya nevah have ta hide from da bulls."

I didn't take offense at all from this comment, in fact I laughed, but Spot did. "Ya sayin' me sistah is gonna get involved in somethin' wit' da coppahs?"

"Dat was jus' a joke!" Jack exclaimed defensively. 

I restrained my brother. "It was all in good fun. I think ya jus' had a little too much ta drink. Jack, can he stay ovah at ya place tanight?" 

"Shuh thing," he answered before chuckling again. 

"What," I demanded, "is so funny?"

He pulled his hat onto his head and started walking out the door. "Ya are so ya bruddah's sistah. You'll be a great leadah someday, Spark. Jus' wait an' see." 

"Don' forget Spot heah," I told him before he was fully over the threshold. He turned on his heel and grabbed my brother by the arm, carting him upstairs to the bunks. I sighed and plopped down into a chair looking at Racetrack. "Do you think Kloppman would notice if I just stayed here tonight?" I asked, once again using my true accent. 

"Yeah, ya bettah get goin'." As I walked out into the street he called after me, "Alex, use ya real accent more often, its how I like ya. Jus' da way I met ya."

I smiled in the darkness, knowing that I was going to Queens was great on its own, but having Racetrack defend me, well, that was priceless. 

~*~*~*~

"Wake up ya lazy bum!" was how I was greeted by Patch the next morning. 

"Ain't ya supposed ta be da reserved one?" 

"Dat what dey told ya? Prepare ta be surprised," she said with a snicker. 

"What I'd like to hear right now is 'Surprise, surprise, you get to sleep an extra hour'," I informed her, only halfway joking. 

"No can do," Sli said from across the room. "We's leavin' for Queens taday. You, Jack, Spot, an' I are goin'. An' I think Race an' Roman are taggin' along."

I sighed, not that I minded going, but I wanted my sleep. Knowing that Racetrack would be there lifted my moral to a higher peak however. "All right, all right, I'll get ready," I groaned sleepily, dragging myself into the washroom. Quickly I splashed my face with the cold water in the clay basin. Now I understood why Spot always said he wanted a porcelain tub with boiling water. 

"Are ya leavin'?" I heard a young voice ask. I felt tugging on my skirt and looked down only to find my niece.

"Hi, Devy. Yeah, I have to leave for a couple of days. Grown-up stuff. I'll tell you all about it when I'm back," I told her, hugging her close. I didn't care what Spot said about having children, she was so sweet I wanted one of my own. I kissed her cheek and hoisted her onto my hip. 

"I guess its too dangerous ta bring da girl?" I asked, still not having perfected the "oi" sound of my accent. 

Slider looked thoughtful at my question. "I guess ya can bring her. But ya gonna be in charge 'a watchin' her. Ya up ta dat?" 

"Ya kiddin'? She's me niece, I ain't gonna forget her any time soon." 

"Ya nevah know," she said with a sigh. It was times like these when I wondered about the pasts of the people that I had come to know as my second family. But that was one of the rules among the newsies, don't ask about people's pasts, and don't tell. Most people became newsies to escape their past, and you didn't want to delve into their personal business. 

"Earth ta Spark." Slider waved her hand in front of my face, shocking me out of my thoughts. "We'se leavin' now. Whatcha doin'?"

"Sorry, sorry, jus' thinkin'."

"'Bout what?"

"Stuff," I answered shortly. 

I heard Jack holler from downstairs and, grabbing the little bag containing an extra days clothing, I ran down the stairs, Slider trailing directly behind me. 

"What took ya so long?" Jack teased when we reached the three boys. "Gettin' dressed up for us studs?"

I walked up to Jack, pushing myself close to him. His lips were only inches away from mine as I spoke. "Oh, I was dressin' up for a stud all right." I pulled away and walked to Race. "An' dis would be him."

Racetrack and Slider were laughing along with me as Jack tried to hide his embarrassment. "Dat's ya problem, boy. Ya get embarrassed too easily."

"An' what makes you da expert on dis?" he questioned. 

"I know enough cocky, highfalutin boys ta know ya all have ya faults, ya just hide 'em bettah than uddahs," I said. Again, color ran up to Jack's cheeks. "Calm yaself, boy. C'mon take ya best shot," I offered.

"Let's just get going," Jack stated impatiently. Noticing Dev he asked, "Ya bringin' da demon child?" Knowing it would frustrate him, and not being able to resist the urge to get a rise out of him, I nodded. 

"Do ya gotta use me goil ta agitate people?" Slider asked when we started walking.

"Sorry," I apologized briefly.

She grinned. "Not dat I don' enjoy watchin' Jack get flustered every once in a while." This caused both of us to laugh despite the graveness of all of the events around us.

Racetrack pulled back as we were giggling. "What's so funny?" he asked. He made sure Spot wasn't looking and kissed my forehead sweetly. 

"Jack," both of us said at the same time. 

Race was examining Devy, who was still swinging from my waist. Lovingly, he lifted her tiny frame from my skirt. 

"Can we have one?" he begged, sounding like a little boy in a pet store. 

I thought for a minute, what was the worst that could happen? Spot would be entirely hypocritical to say anything, and children were so cute. And Racetrack was a born father. Even so, Spot's words loomed overhead. In the end, it was a sense of rebelliousness that made me whisper "Yes" in his ear. 

~*~*~*~

"Dammit!" Racetrack shouted at the Harlem newsies. I covered Devy's ears to block out some of the vulgarities being exchanged. "Ya can't stay outta it! It'll spread and affect Harlem soon 'nough. Chant an' his army ain't playin' around, dey out for blood."

"Ya just on dat side 'cause ya screwin' Spot's sistah!" a boy retaliated.

Race stood up quickly, his chair knocked out from under him. "Don' ya evah talk 'bout Spark like dat!" he yelled. "I'll fight each an' every one of ya dat insults her again. Ya wanna take me on?"

I heard another chair scrape the ground. "What, dat rich, pompous whore? So, how is she? Innocent? Though I figah she's experienced by now," a tall boy answered the challenge crudely.

"Don' ya evah!" Raced shouted as he lunged at the boy. The crowded room made the fight awkward as Racetrack punched in blind rage. The other boy was more capable, even I knew that, but Racetrack had the passion. My heart stopped for a minute as I realized that the passion he was fighting with was passion for me. I couldn't divisions to happen on account of me. I had to do something.

"Race, it ain't worth it. It really ain't," I told him, setting Dev down and grabbing his arms, pinning them behind his back. Some of the Harlem boys did the same to their man and the fighting ceased. "Now we don' need any more difficulty on account 'a me. I can take care of meself." 

"Did ya not heah da shit he was sayin' 'bout youse?" Racetrack protested. 

"I hoid each an' every woid dat has been said in dis room since noon," I stated.

Racetrack just stood at me open-mouthed until I asked him what the problem was. "Ya said it. Ya fully got da accent, ya fully a newsie." 

"Said what?" I asked confused. 

"Hoid. Woid. Woik. Dat sound, ya know?" Just then I realized how much that had been important. I smiled slightly as Jack called out to break for dinner. 

"Foist," I said, using my newly acquired ability to make the sound, "We gotta smooth t'ings ovah wit' Harlem. We need their assistance in dis." 

I led Racetrack over to the table of the borough he'd fought. He walked straight up to the boy he'd fought. "Bright," he acknowledged the boy. Without another word, he spit in his hand, offering it to the boy, who repeated the action and shook. From the cheering that went up I could tell that the problems had been solved.

I noticed Slider talking animatedly to a boy at the table, and approached her. "Who's dis?" I asked.

"Me bruddah, Karth. 'Membah?" 

I thought back to the day she had taken me to buy the clothes that I was wearing right then. "'Course I do. Nice ta meet ya, Karth," I said, offering my hand. 

I cringed slightly – at least what I thought was unnoticeable – as I saw him putting his hand up to his mouth to spit. "Don' like da spittin' tradition?" 

"Not particularly," I said, blushing slightly. I had always had a problem with people noticing that I was uncomfortable with their normal conduct. Fortunately, Racetrack grabbed me at that moment, his apology done and over with, and saved me from more potential embarrassment. 

"Let's go eat wit' our table now," he suggested and I followed him towards the table where a few Manhattan and Brooklyn newsies sat scattered amongst the table. I greeted everyone and sat down in the chair beside Racetrack. 

Racetrack was eating his small serving of soup slowly, savoring the taste. I did the same with my salad. After all, this was probably the last meal either of us would eat for at least another day. Relishing in the taste of the nutrients was just one of the things I had learned staying with the newsies. I'd actually complied of a list.

Headlines don't sell papes; newsies sell papes. Be wary of your enemies; be even more wary of your enemies. Eating every meal is not a guaranteed concept; savor what you can get. Live life to the fullest for you never know when it will end. 

That last one was the one that impacted me the most. Previously I had watched life pass me by, now I had a new outlook on it. When you don't have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, it's a lot easier to just sit and laze the day away. Here you earned your way every day, you couldn't ignore the clock ticking in the center of town. It was almost an adrenaline rush to have to make your own living day after day. 

And, of course, there was always Racetrack to fall back on. Speaking of Race, just that moment he leaned over to me, whispering in my ear. "Ya plannin' on stayin' in 'Hattan tanight. I know a coitain Italian gambler who would be really happy if ya did. He'd even be willin' ta share his bunk." He raised an eyebrow suggestively at my nod. 

Well, why the hell not? I was a seventeen-year-old girl, and he was my soulmate. Opportunities like this don't always come knocking at your door, after all. 

A/N: So you all know what the next scene is about. But just a note: it's not gonna be graphic or in detail, I'm not into that sorta stuff.

Shoutouts: 

Mouth- Hehe, I'se ready. You asked when I would be, and now I am. Haha. 

Soaker- She got the accent! LOL It took me forever to perfect speaking in a NY accent, but now I'm close to perfect. Funny that the first sound I did get was the "oi" but whatever. I know, Racetrack is cute, isn't he? I want him to give me gifts. Whoa that sounded perverted, sorry. Yep, plot is going to thicken soon. Well, keep reading! Byya!


	17. Ain't All Black And White

The meeting wrapped up relatively quickly after dinner with only a few arguments. Harlem had decided to join us – as proven by Racetrack's early hand gestures – as did most of the other boroughs. Only Long Island and the Bronx wanted to wait and see how it would be for a while before anything happened. By ten o'clock we were all on our way back home.

Spot and Roman parted ways with us during the journey to head back to Brooklyn. It appeared that I would be a permanent member of Manhattan, at least until the stuff with Chant cleared up. Apparently, I was safer there than in the much more involved Brooklyn. 

"Jack, if its all right wit' ya, I'll walk Spark back ta da londgin' house, an' den I got some business ta attend too. I'll probably be late," he said to the Manhattan leader.

Suspiciously Jack answered, "Be careful, Race. Don' forget who 'er bruddah is. But if ya promise me dat, ya can go."

"Of course, sir," Racetrack said, tipping his hat to Jack and directing me towards the girls lodging house. When we got there he grabbed the fire escape ladder. "Let's go."

I blindly climbed the ladder in the dark night. I slipped on one of the rungs and fell into Racetrack, causing him to emit an "oof" of pain. Laughing, we tumbled to the ground, landing on top of each other. Giggling, we tried the ascent once again, and once again we were unsuccessful. Slowly we made our way up to the window and he dragged me off to a room off the bunkroom. 

He kissed me passionately before whispering into my ear, "Are ya shuh ya ready for dis?"

"Yes," I said before kissing him back. As if in slow motion, the two of us fell to the bed. 

~*~*~*~

"Feel like returning to the world of the living?" I saw Slider's frame looming over me; Mouth and Jack were beside her. 

"Higgins, I thought I told ya ta be careful. What da hell were ya thinkin'?" Jack said, trying not to shout. 

I looked up to Mouth, waiting for her comment, but none came. She shook her head in disappointment instead.

"I'se seventeen yeahs old, why are ya treatin' me like I'se ya daughtah?" I shouted, trying to cover up my embarrassment at the foolish choice I had made.

Jack's voice was at the same noise level as mine, shouting just quiet enough not to wake everyone. "I ain't da one dat thinks of ya like dat, but Spot does. An' if Spot evah finds out . . . we's all in deep shit." He lowered his voice as he sat beside me on the bed. "Ya didn' think 'bout da rest of us, did ya? Don' ya realize dat dis affects all of us?" 

"Spot don' have ta find out!" I said. I had already realized the consequences of my actions. 

"What if ya get pregnant or somethin'?" Sli yelled. "I been dere, I done dat, and ya don' want ta go through what I went through."

Racetrack had dressed and stood up, pacing back and forth through the room, muttering to himself, "This is the stupidest thing I'se evah done. What da hell was I thinkin'?"

"Race," I said, reaching my arm out to him.

He shrank back. "Leave me alone!" he shouted before walking off into the streets of New York, kicking the objects around him.

I felt a salty tear drop down my face. "What am I gonna do?" I sighed. 

"I don' know, but we'se gonna help ya through it," Jack said, stroking my back. Slider came to my side and did the same, promising me I'd be fine. Mouth simply stood there observing and evaluating the situation.

"Ya gotta keep goin' like nothin's wrong or Spot'll find out 'bout everythin'," Sli said. "Jack, get outta heah." Jack walked away and Slider handed me my dress, which I slipped into. 

"Ya shuh I didn' do da right t'ing?" I asked her worriedly.

Mouth stirred from her relaxed position on the wall. "It ain't all black an' white," she said before leaving the room. 

A/N: See, not graphic, yet it happened, and now the consequences are coming. So I got over with the part I really didn't want to write. Also, I'm going to be gone from the 15th until 22nd so I won't be able to post. I'll make sure to write though, so that I can post as soon as I get back. 

Shoutouts:

Birdy- Sorry I didn't get to "woik" you in this chapter, but I wanted to finish it before I left for London. You will be in the next chapter or so, I promise. 

Soaker- Can't offer you lots to read 'cause I'll be gone that long too. Sorry! But, I offer you this chapter at least. Racetrack isn't such a sweetheart at the end of this, now is he? I didn't mean to make him act like an ass.

Sprite- I know, everyone automatically picks up the accent. I would like to point out that it is hard to get the accent! Or maybe that's just for me, but I'm not capable of getting certain sounds. 

Sparx- First off, nice name. LOL. Anyway, glad you like this and I hope you keep reading! 

Mouth- What the heck did you do? LOL I should have asked you that on the phone today. Wait a tick, I can ask you at Daniel's. I will. I am stupid. Just admit it, you are a maniac. LOL. Well, must go, byya!

Drama-Queen – Yeah, she needed to get the accent. But everyone works hard to perfect it, so she had to too. Anyway, thanks! Hope you continue to read it!


	18. In Hiding

"I don' know what I was thinkin'. He don' love me, he nevah did. He jus' pretended it," I said for what must have been the fifteenth time that day.  
  
Patch comforted me anyway. "I'm shuh he did. He was jus' noivous. He didn' know what ta do. Can ya blame 'im?"  
  
"Yes," I stated before walking off to try to sell another paper with the headline "People intentionally start tenant fiah! Caught by police!" which truly said, "Barbecue fires cause safety hazards, police crack down on barbecues."  
  
"Dat's a good one," Patch said, before shouting out the same headline in German, attracting a multitude of new buyers. I tried my at translating it into French, the only other language I knew, and I only knew that from school. My botched translation attracted many buyers however.  
  
"I loined from da best," I said, clapping her on the shoulder. "But back ta da problem at hand please. What da hell am I gonna say ta Spot?"  
  
"Nothin' if ya can help it. He may figuah it out but I doubt he'd suspect enough ta notice."  
  
"What if-?" I stopped, not daring to think of the thought that crossed my mind. "Patch, I gotta tell ya somethin'. I was talkin' ta Spot one day, an' he tol' me dis: I'se tellin' ya now an' ya ain't evah gonna heah it again. Havin' a baby with someone makes it woise for da relationship. Jus' remembah dat if ya evah tempted. Oh, Patch, I promised 'im, an' I defied 'im."  
  
"Oh, sweetie," she said, letting me rest my head on her shoulder. "Cry if ya need ta, jus' go ahead an' cry."  
  
"Thank ya," I whispered into her shoulder. She stroked my hair slightly to comfort me before taking me into Tibby's. Driving me straight for the bathroom she walked to the basin inside and instructed me to wash my eyes to hide the red marks. "What would I do without ya?"  
  
"Probably you'd be a lot bettah off, but we don' exactly get a choice now do we?" I laughed and thanked her once again. I hugged her for a minute. "All righ', all righ', stop wit' da huggin', le's jus' get back out dere before dey send a search party."  
  
"Sit heah," Sprite said, motioning to the seat next to her. "Now listen, I gots a plan for ya safety." Just as I was about to yell at Slider for telling her about earlier, she added. "Ya know, from Chant." I sighed in relief. That was all she was talking about. "I'se got an uncle, an' he said ya can stay wit' him an' 'is daughtah for a while so dat you'se safe. Ya can still visit, but dat gives ya a place ta stay when it gets too dangerous."  
  
"What about you all?" I asked. I had been wondering since the beginning why I was getting special treatment. "Why are ya hidin' me away an' not yaselves. Ya don' t'ink I can defend meself?"  
  
"It ain't dat." Sprite said softly. She ended abruptly and I could tell she was hiding something from me.  
  
"Well, den what is it?"  
  
Sprite looked uncomfortable and then Slider cut in. "Jus' tell 'er."  
  
"Spot got a lettah from Chant an' 'is goons, an' he was threatenin' ya. Guess dey knew he was ya weak spot. But eithah way, ya ain't safe heah. Jus' watch yaself." Sprite looked relieved that she had gotten it out.  
  
"Dis jus' ain't good timin', is it?" Mouth whispered into my ear. I nodded. "I'se always heah for ya," she whispered again. I smiled, glad to know I had my friends on my side at least.  
  
Just then, Spot ran into Tibby's. "Sli, ya need ta hide Spark wit' Sprite's uncle. It ain't safe heah no more for her. Is dat gonna woik? He ready?"  
  
"Its good," Sprite answered for her. "I'll get her dere right away. What's da problem?"  
  
"Chant's threatenin' us again an' I'se worried for her. I brought her stuff dat was still at Brooklyn, let's get her off right away." I looked at Spot and saw the true worry in his eyes, and I knew I couldn't protest. He sincerely cared about my safety; I had to obey. "Spark?"  
  
"Okay," I agreed without so much as one objection. I allowed myself to be dragged off towards a house - of which I don't even know the location, as I followed like a zombie - where a tall man stood beside his skinny, raven-haired daughter.  
  
"Hey Sprite. That one's Spark?" the man said.  
  
I noticed he was pointing to me and I spoke. "I'm Spark." I reached out my hand, and he shook it (without spitting in it, I might add).  
  
"Is that your daughter?" I asked, pointing the girl standing beside him.  
  
"Yeah, she's mine. A spitting image of her mother."  
  
I noticed that he was drifting of into his own world when the girl stepped up. "Da name's Boidy. Why don' ya come inside?"  
  
"Sounds good to me," I said, turning to look at Slider and Sprite behind me.  
  
"We ain't comin' too. We'll visit soon." With that, they were off, and I was left with the two people I had only met a moment before. Knowing they were related to Sprite is what kept me from running after her.  
  
"Let's go," I said and then followed them into the apartment.  
  
A/N: Okay, I know this is short, but I wanted to get this over and done with and posted before my trip (I leave for the airport in an hour!). Oh, and Birdy, sure you can use me.  
  
Have a good week!  
  
Ciao,  
  
Spark Higgins 


	19. The Newfound Pathway For Hurt

For a week that seemed like five years, I was imprisoned inside that house. Don't take that the wrong way, for they were more kind and caring guardians than I had even allowed myself to dream of. But either way, an average seventeen-year-old girl needed her freedom, a chance to socialize. 

My saving grace came from Birdy. As I soon found out, she had a job closer to my adopted home . . . she was a singer at Medda's. I guess it wasn't that unlikely that I hadn't found her before, I'd only been to Irving Hall twice in my short time with the boys. Either way, she worked there every night but Saturday, which was when the vaudeville stage was covered in travelling stars. 

At first, they had said the risk was too high; they said they had promised to protect me, and protect me they would. Eventually, however, I wore them down, and I was allowed to go to the shows. Little did I know what sights I would behold there . . . 

~*~*~*~

"Ya shore I have ta get all dolled up jus' ta stand behind da coitan an' watch ya perform?" I groaned as Birdy applied the make-up to my face. I scrunched up my eyes as she brought a colored powder towards them. 

She forced the crimson powder into the creases of my eyelid and eventually forced me to loosen the muscles I had contracted so abruptly before. "Ya need ta look desirable at all times. Who knows when you'll see a man ya want." 

I looked down at my firmly clasped hands. "What if I already have?" I questioned more to myself then to Birdy. If she heard this, or the sigh that followed, she didn't let on. I silently thanked her whether she meant to do that or not. 

~*~*~*~

"Maybe/You're gonna be the one that saves me/ And after all/ You're my wonderwall," Birdy concluded the song in her beautiful voice. 

I clapped with all my might, even standing from the barrel I had used as a makeshift stool during my duration of the show. I glanced out at the audience to see their reaction. All were clapping, but I noticed a group clapping more loudly than the rest; standing on their feet and with their loud whooping they drew my attention. Slowly the mass began to take shape. I spotted a tall, lean boy raising his cowboy hat, his arm around a girl in a puffy blue skirt. I identified the rest of my newsie crowd, going down the line. Most had a girl on their arm, though a few were going stag that night, flirting with the line of floozies behind them. 

I sunk back into my seat as my eyes focused in on the short, curly haired Italian. I followed his gorgeous brown eyes right to the source of the extra shine: a petite girl with flowing blonde hair hidden beneath a pink hat. I was wishing on imaginary stars when I hoped they were just friends, as he bent over and kissed her with what looked like the passion he had expressed for me. 

That was the night that changed my general attitude towards men. 

~*~*~*~ 

I had never been tempted to find a beautiful stranger on the street and follow him home before in my life, but I found myself doing just that every night I was able to get out of the house. I had, after all, been wounded beyond repair. Men became a pathway for my hurt, a way to forget it all. Conversations the next morning almost always went like this:

Man: Well, that was amazing.

Me: Thank you.

Man: Well, that's all.

Me: Is it?

Man: What did you expect?

Me: Nothing, nothing at all. 

Man: Goodbye then.

Me: Goodbye. 

I pretended to be all right with that, of course, but I never truly was. I'd always been a hopeless romantic, and I wasn't going to change overnight. I wanted a relationship; I wanted to be loved. But instead of settling down, I continued to sleep around, despite hazards of such behavior. 

And then came that fateful morning . . .

"Birdy," I said, quaking with fear as I approached my friend. "I think I have a problem."

"What's dat?" she asked, evidently worried. 

"I'se pregnant," I said. I repeated the word over and over again as tears spilled out my eyes. "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know," Birdy replied truthfully. "But we'll do something."

A/N: That's what happens when you don't use protection, kids. Sorry, I had to say that. But anyway. . . I'm back from London and back in the updating circuit (which you can tell by my posting a new chapter the day I get back from the 10 hour plane ride home). 

Disclaimer: The song Birdy sang was 'Wonderwall' by Oasis. Quite a good song, go listen to it. Oasis is one of my calmer bands (compared to AFI, The Clash, etc.) 

Shoutouts:

Sprite- Lucky you! You got to go for two weeks! There's so much to see, I know I missed a bunch. It was still great though. And yes, yay for the french.

Reffy- Thanks so much for your support. I'm so glad people like my work. 

Drama-Queen- The waiting is done, here's your chapter!!

Sli- I know you got my email, so I won't pound you with shit in here. But on with that: Yes, I know what I need to do. Either the next chapter or the one after this, I will do it too. I'm sorta stuck in this melodrama bit for a while though. I promise!!

Soaker- Race is existant, and still an ass in this chapter. I didn't mean to make him such a bloody wanker ('scuse the British slang, England does that to a person), but it just sort of happened. Either way, Racetrack is my hero, so I probably won't end him as an ass. Yes, yes, Spot is clueless . . . for now.


	20. A Game

"What da hell?" Jack shouted. "Are ya kiddin' me?" I was back in the lodging house now; Birdy had taken me there. She had said it was the best thing to do. I'd agreed with her in the beginning, but judging by Jack's response to the news I wasn't sure. "What da hell were ya thinkin'?"  
  
I was nearly in tears now. He had been carrying on like this for nearly five minutes without stopping, and he wasn't showing any sign of relenting now. "I don't know," I said. The salty teardrops flowed down my cheeks like water breaking out of a dam. "I'm sorry," I whispered.  
  
"Sorry ain't gonna make da baby go away!" Jack shouted. I noticed he was trying to calm his rage when he next spoke. "I'se just worried 'bout what Spot's gonna say. I'se only concoined for ya, I sincerely care 'bout ya, Spark. You'se like me own, an' I don' like seein' ya in dis state." He sighed. "I have ta say, I'se disappointed dat ya didn' loin ya lesson da foist time."  
  
"I wadn't exactly da happiest person alive right 'bout den," I said passively, not intending to converse further on the topic.  
  
Birdy, however, felt the need to pry right in front of Cowboy. "What do ya mean?" she questioned.  
  
"Nothin'," I grunted.  
  
"Does it have ta do wit' him?" she asked. I looked down, but my meaning was obvious. She nodded knowingly and whispered to Jack.  
  
Jack walked over to me and sat down next to me on the random bunk. He placed his arm protectively around my shoulder in a brotherly gesture. "I'se sorry, Spark. I'se really, really sorry."  
  
I looked up at him, the light through the window making the tears on my cheek glisten. "It ain't ya fault."  
  
"I should have told ya," was all he said before standing up and walking across the room. When he got there he spoke once again. "I'll protect ya from what ya need protectin' from, but I ain't good wit' mattahs of da heart." I assumed he was going to continue just as a little boy ran through the door panting. "What is it, Wire?"  
  
"Chant's down in Brooklyn, an' Spot needs ya ta bring ya boys," the petite boy managed to say between gasps of fresh air.  
  
"Sit down an' rest, I'll get da boys an' da goils, wheddah Spot wants 'em or not." Jack turned to me. "I'se sendin' Mouth in ta talk ta ya, she's still recoverin' from annudah injury an' I don' want 'er fightin' taday. She's good at dat sorta stuff."  
  
Before I could say anything else he dashed out the door, off to find the troops he commanded so well. Moments later, Mouth popped in the room, her red hair flying free from the cap she usually donned. She leaned in her usual position against the wall, surveying what I can only imagine was quite an odd scene. I was bawling my eyes out and Birdy was trying unsuccessfully to comfort me, yet I was pushing her away.  
  
"I just don't know what to do," I finally uttered, attempting to wipe the tears from my eyes. They kept falling despite my efforts.  
  
Finally, Mouth spoke. "Jus' let 'em fall." Her infrequent use of words made me wonder why on earth she was called Mouth. Then I recalled previous conversations in happier times when she was nearly as talkative as I was. I suppose she had just acquired a habit I hadn't, when and where it's right to shut up. I waited for more words of wisdom to follow, and eventually they did. "Trus' me, Spark, he loved ya. It wadn't jus' an excuse ta get some."  
  
"Well, he don' love me now, goin' out wit' dat pretty goil ta Irvin' Hall," I said, the anger in my voice increasing.  
  
"Taht?" Mouth questioned. I didn't know her name, but I assumed Mouth would know who I was talking about. "Ya, well, ya know what a tart is, don'tcha?" I looked at her, unsure of the meaning of the slang. "Floozy, whore, prostitute." She thought for a moment. "An', of course, sour an' bitter. She's jus' an all-around bitch."  
  
"Even if she is, he still loves her," I said, becoming more upset by the moment.  
  
"Ya don' know dat," she said.  
  
I looked into her eyes, hoping to see the truth, but her eyes were presenting a less than fifty-fifty chance in my life. At this point, that was how I was viewing everything. In odds, like gambling. Like a game.  
  
A game I was losing.  
  
Badly.  
  
A/N: Too tired for shoutouts. Much love to all reviewers. Bye! 


	21. Instant Ups and Downs

Spot still hadn't figured out my secret, which amazed everyone including myself. He was usually so up on things, and he missed something this important. I guess he was preoccupied with Chant and that whole front. Bloody beatings in the street became more common, though to my knowledge no one had suffered a mortal wound. I was still pretty sheltered from war information staying hidden with Birdy and her father. I also was kept far from people with helpful advice – not that Birdy didn't try, but she just didn't know what to say. No one really did. Then I realized who I should have talked to. It had been staring me in the face the entire time and I just ignored it. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it before. 

"Medda!" I shouted out one day while I helped Birdy wash clothing. 

"What?" she questioned in reaction to my strange exclamation. 

"I need to talk to Medda. She told me I could talk to her if I needed to. I think this qualifies as needing to," I answered. 

"All right." And with those last words we were off to Irving Hall to talk to the redheaded woman I had only met once or twice before.

Suddenly, I made a random connection. "Why is it that red-heads give the best advice?"

"Where did ya get dat?" 

"No earthly clue. Just noticing that both Mouth and Medda have puffy red hair," I answered. Birdy gave me an odd look that made me laugh for the first time since that fateful day. 

My laughing still hadn't ceased when we reached the wooden doors to Medda's dressing room, the average entrance for performers and newsboys and girls. At first, I wasn't sure the woman in the room Birdy had directed me to was the Medda I knew. She was wearing a plain black skirt and blue top quite unlike her purple and pink show dresses. Her hair was combed into a clip on the back of her head, giving her a more motherly appearance. 

"Birdy? Spark? Can I help you?" she asked without a hint of her feigned Swedish accent from the stage. 

"Well, ya see.." I started, but hearing the concern in Medda's voice made tears stream down from my eyes making me incapable of speaking coherently. 

Birdy filled her in for me. I heard my own tale being told, making me realize how stupid and foolish I had been. I'd become what I hated (a/n: that's a good song by Midtown. download it today!), and the worst had happened because of it. I expected either a lecture on my stupidity or a comforting word or two, but she simply looked me straight in the eye and asked, "What are you going to do?" 

I looked at her bleary eyed. "What?"

"Well, you can't very well raise a child in a newsgirls lodging house," she stated plainly and without emotion. I thought for a moment. I didn't have any options at all. I hadn't even thought that far in advance, I was a little more worried about what would happen when Spot found out. Shamed I turned my head from her gaze and looked around the room at a figurine of a dancer. "When are you due?"

I thought for a moment. "I'm about," I mentally added the most likely number. I'd been living with Birdy for just over a month. "I must be about a month in," I finished.

"Well then, you still have some time. But you need a plan, even eight months in advance. Now if you really don't have any options, I've got an idea. I've got an extra room hear and in six months one of my regular acts is leaving. Ya got any talents, kid?" 

I reflected on my talents, and only one came to mind. "I play the guitar."

"That's perfect. We haven't had a guitarist in years. I know you'll be pretty far along then, but we'll hide it somehow. You'll be sitting anyway. Does that sound like a deal?"

"Thank you," I said. Honestly, having my child grow up behind the Vaudeville stage was not what I had been imagining, but she was right, I didn't have any other options. "I'll do that."

"For now--" Medda started, but she never got a chance to finish. At that very moment I rushed for the restroom, my hand over my mouth. I threw up violently three or four times before standing up. "If the sickness is already starting I know this'll be a hard pregnancy. You sure you can take care of her?" 

Birdy nodded. "We don't really have any other options, do we?" 

Medda reflected on this comment as she got me a cup of cold water to rinse my mouth out with. "No, you really don't. I think you should get her home now though. Feel free to stop by if you need help," she offered. 

Limply I let myself be dragged out of the Irving Hall doors and back to the house. I tripped on my way up the stairs, but I managed to lay down comfortably. My first bitter taste of morning sickness, and I definitely didn't like it. 

~*~*~*~ About A Week Later ~*~*~*~

I sat on the windowsill watching out in the streets. A few punches were being exchanged between a Queens boy I recognized from the meetings and a boy who must have been from either Midtown, Long Island, or the Bronx. I watched the Queens boy take a punch in the eye, wishing I could help him. He was going to have a shiner for days, though the other boy looked to be in worse condition. My reverie was awakened by the knock on the door. 

"Come on in, Boidy," I said without moving. 

"I ain't Boidy," I heard Spot say. "Can I still come in?" 

"Why wouldn't ya be able ta?" I asked. I suppose he was unable to come up with an answer as he walked into the room and sat on the bed in the room. "What ya heah for? Bad news?" 

"Actually, its good, at least for you. Jack an' I was talkin' an' we decided ya can come home for now." I smiled and reached up to hug him. He was slightly startled but returned the embrace a moment later. I almost laughed at home unused to family affection he was. 

"Thank ya," I said, smiling. "What changed ya mind?" 

"Well, we got some o' Jacky's boys in Brooklyn ta protect ya, so I'se all right wit' ya bein' home. It's probably bettah for ya in da end." Spot told me to pack up my things, and I quickly grabbed my few outfits stashing them in my bag to leave. We started walking down the stairs when I made a mad dash for the restroom again. As I wretched I heard Spot call Birdy to come. "Is she gonna be all right?" he asked. I was almost touched by the concern in his voice. 

"She'll be fine," she reassured. 

"Has dis happened before?" Birdy nodded. "Why did no one send for me?" 

"Well, ya see, this is perfectly normal."

Puzzled, Spot asked, "What do ya mean, dis is normal?" 

"Spot," she started. "Ya sistah is gonna have a baby." 

Spot stared at me. "Wit' who? I'll moidah da bastahd!! Who took advantage of me sistah?" he hollered. 

"I don' know," I said, finally recovering. 

"What do ya mean ya don' know??" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Ya mean ya did dis more den once?" 

I looked up at him, tears once again streaming down my face. Dammit, I'd been crying a lot lately. I hated crying, it showed weakness, and I wouldn't stand for weakness. I couldn't choke the words out so I simply nodded. 

"Ya whore! I'se embarrassed ta admit you'se me sistah! What da hell were ya thinkin'?" he yelled even louder than before. 

"Hypocrite! Ya knocked up Sli an' ya ain't wit' her!" I shouted back. 

"Dat's a different story completely! An' ya can' tell me what ta do! I'se ya oldah bruddah! I'se in charge of ya!"

"So what are ya gonna do ta me?" I said. I suppose this wasn't the best time to say that. 

"Ya ain't comin' ta Brooklyn, dat's for shuh! You'se ain't allowed ta set foot on me territory, ya floozy!" With that he stomped out of the door, and out of my life. But not without leaving a lasting sting that nagged at me forever.

"What am I gonna do, Boidy? What am I gonna do?" I begged. "I can' stay heah no more, it ain't fair ta ya. I'll find a place."

"We'll take ya back ta 'Hattan. Me cousin'll keep ya, she's a kind person at heart an' she'll help ya out," Birdy offered. "Ya want dat?" I nodded and she helped me out of the door and walked me to the Manhattan lodging house that I hadn't set foot in since the day I left for Birdy's. 

Choruses of "what's wrong?" surrounded me as I walked into the lodging house bawling my eyes out with Birdy trailing behind. 

"Spot don' want me. He abandoned me an' exiled me from Brooklyn." 

"Why?" everyone asked at the same time.

"I'se," I started. I couldn't bring myself to say it, I was too ashamed at myself. 

"She's pregnant," Patch finished for me. I shouldn't have been surprised she knew, Mouth had once mentioned Patch being her secret-keeper of sorts. "Now leave 'er alone. She's been through too much dis past month, she deserves a night off." She turned to me. "Follow me, Spahk. I got an extra room for ya, an' we'll talk in da moinin'." 

She led me to a little private room. "Thank you," I said before laying down and trying to sleep. For once in my life, sleep didn't come at that very instant. The entire night I laid there, confused and disoriented. The one place I called home now I wasn't allowed to go into. The only piece left of my family had deserted me, and now I was going to be a single mother in only a matter of six or seven months. Even then, it hadn't entirely hit me.

A/N: Sorry this took me longer than usual, but it was practically a double chapter by my standards. 

Shoutouts:

Mouth: I know, you're good with that advice shit. And getting soaked. LOL. What is this about Bry proposing? If I knew getting a boyfriend made you this happy I would have gotten you one before now. Haha. Much love, bestest friend!

Sweets: Haha I use that line a lot in my reviews of my friends too. I updated! I know it took a while, but I finally updated. Yay!

Fingers: * bows * Okay, yeah, I know I need to use you all more, and now I'm back in the lodging house in 'Hattan so we'll be seeing plenty of you guys. I just went off on that leg for a while, but I'm back to the center of the newsie universe again. And Aaron Lohr is not yours. And that is so my line, for the record. You can ask Mandy, I said it in English class. 

Soaker: Well, this chapter is pretty sad too, but I promise there will be a happy chapter next with a large dose of Racetrack Higgins. That's all I can say now. J 

Reffy: I don't know that this counts as working out, but we'll see what direction things take to come. Spark says thanks for the concern. LOL. Glad you like it!

Drama-Queen: Sorry, this update took a while too. But I did it eventually, and the reviews fueled me along. Yep, that's what happens when you sleep around (not that I know from experience). Glad you like this and my other stuff. 

Sprite: Whoa, somehow the tables turned and you updated more frequently than me. What's going on with that? LOL. Thanks soo much for reviewing all the time, I really look forward to your reviews (hint, hint) as much as I do your updates (hint, hint). By the way, superrific is a great word. Haha. 


	22. Always Make Sure The Window Is Closed

"Spark?" was the word that woke me up the next morning. The voice I quickly realized belonged to Fingers. I opened my eyes, looking up at the brown haired girl. "Mouth wants ta see ya."

I nodded, and as I pulled on an overshirt, I asked her, "Wheah's Slidah? Ain't she da leadah? Seems like Mouth is runnin' da place."

"She is. Ya see, Sli left heah for--" she stopped suddenly. She diverted her eyes and I knew instantly that she was keeping something from me. "Mouth'll fill ya in. I got ta get ready ta sell now, I'se already runnin' late." 

"Thank ya," I said before she scampered off. A minute later I was approaching the nearly empty bunkroom where only Mouth and Firecracker sat. "Ya wanted ta talk ta me?" I asked nervously. I felt almost like I was facing the headmaster at school again, only then I could smart-mouth and my father would make it up with a sizable donation. Something told me this would be a little harder to get out of. 

"Sit on down, I t'ink we all need ta talk," Fire said and patted the spot between her and Mouth. I didn't really want to sit there, but what choice did I have? 

"Foist ordah of buisness, ya gonna have a place ta stay when it comes?" Mouth questioned.

I sighed with relief when I heard the question. This I could answer correctly. "Medda's giving me a job and board in six months when of one her regulars leaves." 

Mouth looked puzzled at this before she spoke again. "Medda ain't losin' a regular," she said, more to Firecracker than to me. Fire nodded understandingly. "She's givin' ya dis outta da kindness of 'er heart, make shore ya give 'er a reason ta keep ya."

I realized then how much charity had been paid to me. I was sickened by the amount of sympathy and pity I was getting from everyone. Angrily I stood up and started shouting at the two. "I don't need your charity! I can take care of myself! Don't think you have to give me anything just because I'm the poor defenseless Spark Conlon and you feel sympathy for me!" 

With those last words I stormed out of the room and into the street. I must have been woken in the late afternoon because dusk was already falling. I successfully dodged the newsies that were still selling and roamed the streets without a place to go. Eventually, as it was nearing midnight according to the clock tower, I realized I had nowhere to sleep. I couldn't possibly go back to either of the lodging houses. I wouldn't disturb Birdy again, and I was exiled from Brooklyn. I wandered aimlessly around the town, unsure of what to do next.

It was sometime that night that it really hit me that I had been banished by my own brother. The droplets of weakness called tears fell down my face again, but mostly I felt anger. I was all he had left for family and I let him down. I'd betrayed his only command over me. I'd thrown caution to the wind and ignored everything he had taught me. Looked at in this light, I understood completely why he didn't want me anymore. I was a shame to him, and it appeared I didn't love him. I couldn't believe how stupid and horrible I'd been. I was ashamed of myself. 

At the same time, he should have shown compassion. I'd simply made his mistake again. He was hypocritical to blame me for succumbing to my hormones when he had done the same thing three years back, when he was only sixteen years old. 

I was unsure and confused, with no place to go. I knew better than to sleep in the alleyway like people always do in books, in reality you get stabbed or raped from sleeping unprotected in dark alleys. I continually roamed the streets, looking for a safe haven. I found my sanctuary outside, but near protection. I slept balanced on boxes outside of the newsboys lodging house. I knew that Jack would at least take me in if trouble arose, all I had to do was shout. 

And with those somewhat happy thoughts in my mind, I slept. 

The next morning, it wasn't Jack that found me, or any of the other newsies, it was Oscar Delancy.

"Now, what's a pretty little goil like ya doin' out heah wit' dese bums?" he said in feigned sweetness, trying to hit on me. 

"More den I would evah do wit' you, Oscar," I said, not wanting to fill him in on my recent struggles with the newsies. With any luck, he wouldn't have heard the gossip spreading through the crowd. 

Unfortunately, I wasn't too lucky. "What's da rumah goin' 'roud t'rough da crowd dat you'se havin' a baby? Who'd ya let do ya instead 'a me?"

I stared at him in shock for a moment before recovering. "Would I evah do anythin' wit' da likes 'a you?"

"Ya're jus' 'bout ta do somethin'. It's ya call what it is, ya can eithah meet me fist or give me somethin' ta do wit' my time. Ya call," he spat venomously. 

I'm rarely scared, but this is just one of those times were you can't do anything but shake and shriek. And shriek I did. "Jack! Kloppman! Someone!" But no one came.

This further fueled Oscar on. "Oh, is da little goil scared. If ya done it before why is it scarin' ya. You'se already a whore."

That was the final straw for me. Being called a floozy and a whore by my friends had stung, yes, but after the initial shock and hurt, I managed to get over that. Hearing someone I loathed call me that, well, it caused me to do something I would never do in any other situation. "Shut da hell up! I did what I did because I loved da man I did it wit' an' he hoit me. An' I made some stupid decisions, but I ain't 'bout ta make you part of it. Now get da hell away from me or I'll hoit ya like ya nevah been hoit before. Undastand dat?"

For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes, but I must have been mistaken as in the next instant his taunting had resumed. "Ya gonna hoit me? Now I'se scared, a little goil is gonna hoit me. Oh no. Come heah goil, or I'se gonna hoit ya more den ya wanted." 

My last defense was gone so I resorted to screaming one last time. "Jack! Anyone! Help! I'se out heah!"

My prayers were yet again unanswered and Oscar took this chance to seize his opportunity. He grabbed me around my waist and pushed me against the wall. He reached in and sloppily kissed me, and that kiss will forever stick in my head as the least romantic moment of my life. What he was going to do next, we'll never know, for at that moment G-d chose to give me a little bit of help for once since I'd gotten here. What I don't understand is why he sent that particular messenger.

"Get da hell off me goil, Delancy, or you'll wish ya was nevah born!" he came in shouting like a knight in shining armor.

"You gonna hoit me, Race? You little shrimp? Ya ain't even da size of me muddah, an ya think ya gonna cause me harm? What da hell?" Oscar was shouting, but I noticed him loosening his grip from around my waist. I couldn't tell at that moment if he was ready to run or if he was getting ready to fight. Of course, that question was answered a moment later when he aimed a near perfect right hook at Race's head. 

Not that it ever made it of course. "Dat's all ya got, Delancy? I mean, c'mon, I know goils dat can hit bettah den ya," Race said as he blocked the punch. He threw a much more balanced punch at Oscar's stomach, which landed perfectly on target. "Bastard!" he gasped when Oscar got him back in the jaw. He turned away for a moment to wipe the blood from his chin. 

I knew my chance to square it away was now. As Oscar was preparing another move, I kicked him from behind, making him turn around. At that instant I kicked him in the "forbidden spot" and he fell to the ground in pain. I kicked him over and over again, letting out my anger towards everything. My anger over Spot, over Racetrack, over Oscar, over my stupidity, over my child, over everything all contributed to the pain I was causing Oscar. A moment later I awakened from my trance and I could hear Jack shouting at me to stop. I don't know when Jack got there, but he was pulling me away from a bleeding Oscar Delancy. He stared at me before saying, "Watch out, bitch. I'll get ya for dis!" and running into the dark. 

"Dammit, Spark, what were you thinking? Now we've got to protect you from Chant an' Oscar an' we jus' got ya outta hidin'. What da hell is wrong wit' ya?" Jack was shouting once again. This time, however, I noted that it was said with a brotherly protectiveness not the anger or someone you betrayed. It was almost comforting. 

But what came next was even more comforting to me. "Leave 'er 'lone, Jack. She's been through a lot an' I know I wasn' helpin' it, so I t'ink ya should leave 'er be for a while. I know I need ta talk ta 'er, if she's alright wit' dat." He stopped talking when Jack nodded and leaned over to me. "Will ya talk ta me? I t'ink we need ta clear some things up." 

I only then noticed how much I had wanted to talk to Racetrack about the whole situation since the very beginning. I was too nervous over what he might say to actually speak, but I nodded my head and followed him onto the roof to talk. When we got there, all he said was, "So.."

"So what?" I asked, not sure what direction this conversation was taking. 

"Why'd ya do it?" he asked. 

"Ya hoit me, Race. I don' think ya understand how much ya hoit me when I saw ya wit' Tart." 

"Talk in your real accent," he said.

I looked questioningly at him. "Why?"

"Because that's the Alex Conlon I fell in love with, and the one I still love today."

"You don't think I'm going to fall for a line like that, do you? Why did you abandon me and then go out with that floozy for a month?" 

"I didn' know what ta do. I was scared of what would happen next. An' when ya left I needed someone, so I toined ta Tart, an', well, some t'ings happened dat I didn' mean ta happen. An' eithah way I'se happy now 'cause I know you'll forgive me."

"A little conceited now aren't we? What makes you think I'm going to forgive you and buy into your bullshit lines?" 

"'Cause ya usin' ya real accent."

I knew that he was right, I was still completely in love with him. Without another word, we both leaned in for the kiss that I knew I at least had been longing for since the morning we parted. When we broke apart, I heard a crowd roaring with applause through the window. I looked and the window had been open the whole time.

Damn.

A/N: I know, I'm getting worse about updates, but I've been busy this weekend! And I had to do an entire project in two hours for tomorrow at school (thank the lord for bookrags.com and its notes on the chapters of Anne Frank). Either way, the update is now here. Let's celebrate!

Shoutouts:

Soaker: This a happy enough Racetrack chapter for you? I know, I'm evil to my characters, I make them go through so much stuff for just a little bit of happiness. I torture them, I think I should be arrested. LOL I know you didn't say any of that, but its true. XD.

Sprite: Talking head dolls? I'm just a bit scared now. LOL. I'm so glad to know you like my writing (Don't we have this conversation like once a day?) and I love yours too. Its.. tripidelic! LOL. So cool about the car by the way. 

Sli: You've gone mental, you know that? And yes, I know, me a floozy. * gasp * LOL You should have come to temple with me, I had people laying on top of me and putting their arms around my shoulder so their hands reached.. well.. there. LOL It was like being back at camp except none of them were as hot as Brandon (Side note to Sprite: Yes, that is MY Brandon from Friday lol). A cape??? I want a cape!! * hands slider a cookie * There you go, little girl. 

Reffy: LOL. Thank you so much for reviewing as much as you do, you're one of my like three reviewers that haven't just carried over from other stories (cough cough Sprite cough cough) or my school friends. Its great. Thanks a million for your reviews!

Drama-Queen: Yeah, he should, shouldn't he? I guess we'll see. Either way, at least she has some support from Racetrack now. But, yes, Spot is being an arse. 

Tiger: Hey! * does the new reviewer jig * Glad to have a new reviewer! Hope you continue to like my story! :D.

A/N: Much love to everyone! I tell you what, everyone who reviews gets a flying desk set! (LOL I think only a handful of people (aka Sprite and Sli) will get that. Everyone who doesn't get that can have a cookie. But flying desk sets rock my socks! I love Robert Sean Leonard! 


	23. Sli?

That night I feel asleep happily in Racetrack's arms without a care in the world. Sure, all of the boys had heard our embarrassing romantic confessions, and I had no doubt that the girls would hear the moment that the two groups met, but that didn't really bother me. Of course, I was pregnant, and my brother had disowned me, but for those few tranquil minutes I was truly happy. I forgot it all and only remembered that I was in the arms of the man I loved, and that he loved me back. For that moment, anything was possible.  
  
The next morning, I woke in the same position I had been sleeping in before, and carefully slid from the grasp of the still sleeping Racetrack. Lightly I kissed his forehead before walking around. I scanned the room and noticed a huddle of guys speaking in hushed voices, worry still evident in their faces. "Is there a problem?" I asked, concerned.  
  
"No, no," Jack said. I could tell he was lying though.  
  
"Don't bother lying, Jack, I'll find out sooner or later. Just tell me what the problem is." After the previous night I had abandoned all usage of my feigned New York accent and was back to being the Alexandra Conlon the boys had first met.  
  
"Ya haven' changed a bit," he reported happily, having not seen me before the previous night in nearly a month. He'd been far too busy running a borough during a war to visit. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into a huddle. "Lemme break it down for ya," he started. As he spoke it became evident that Chant and his army had become more than anyone had ever expected them to become. Along with the help of some of the other boroughs he had raised a well-trained army that planned to defeat us. The boys had been discussing strategies to no avail, and now all heads turned towards me.  
  
"I don't know much about gang wars and strategies, but if I know anything its that a group cannot operate without a successful leader. A book can't commence without it's protagonist and a play can't be performed without a director just like a gang can't fight without their leader." I thought this an intelligible answer, as well as one that might actually work.  
  
The boys stared at me for a moment before one dared to speak. It was the blonde one they called Dutchy. "What's a protagnist?"  
  
"Protagonist. It's a main character in a book," Specs answered for me. He was one of the few learned newsies as he had gone to school for nearly eight years before running away and joining leagues with his current crowd.  
  
The rest of the newsies slowly began to move again, further proving my suspicion that none of them besides Specs knew the meaning of the word. Jack started talking again. "I t'ink ya got somethin' dere, Spark. I'd put ya on da council for da meetin's wit' Spot, but, well, ya know.."  
  
"Yeah, I know. If you want though, I'll keep advising you, but just don't tell Spot I did. That way you get advice and Spot doesn't have to know that the ideas are coming from his exiled sister. I don't think he'll like me any more after I go confront him today."  
  
I had been hoping that the last part would slip by unnoticed, but no such luck. Jack looked at me amazedly. "You'se gonna go talk ta Spot? What ya gonna tell 'im? Ya realize dat you'se ain't allowed back dere?"  
  
"You truly think that Spot would hurt his own sister? Honestly, is he that heartless?" Jack wasn't even able to answer the question, he simply nodded. "Then lets hope he isn't heartless enough to kill an unborn baby," were my last words before I deserted the group.  
  
"Spark? Where are ya goin'?" Racetrack said sleepily as I grabbed my hat from the bunk he was still lying on.  
  
"I'm going to talk to Spot, and prove to him that he doesn't have anything over me." Softer, I muttered, "And to prove it to myself."  
  
Racetrack instantly stood up and grabbed his vest, buttoning it quickly. "What're ya gonna do ta him? Soak 'im?" he asked incredulously.  
  
"If need be," was all I said before I turned to walk out the door.  
  
I heard footsteps following quickly behind me as Racetrack said, "Wait, I'se comin' wit' ya."  
  
I slowly walked down the lane, not talking to Racetrack even though he was supposed to be their for support. Feeling isolated I nearly turned around at least ten times, but as I looked down at my slightly rounded belly (I was only two months in, but I had been very slender before from lack of nourishment so the baby began to show immediately.) I felt the strength I needed to carry on. I hummed a little tune slowly and began to sing, as off pitch as I assume I was. "You tell me to go away/You don't want me hear anymore/But I know inside you're like me/You can't survive without me/I've waited my whole life for us/And one wrong step messed it all up/I'm all alone now/But I won't let it end this way.." I randomly chose the words that fit the tune, not caring that there was no rhyming to speak of.  
  
At the end of the song Race stopped in his tracks (a/n: no pun intended) "Ya really cared dat much 'bout ya bruddah?"  
  
"Yeah, I do. He's the only family I had left."  
  
"Tell 'im dat. He'll believe ya if ya tell 'im dat an' he'll foahgive ya, I'se shore of it. He may be tough but he ain't heartless," Racetrack reassured. He put his arm around my shoulders and I smiled burying my head in his vest like a little girl. I breathed in his sent of cigars and newsprint and drew my strength from that.  
  
Before we knew it we were already across the Brooklyn Bridge and facing the lodging house my older brother called home. With Race's arm wrapped around my waist I felt invincible. I marched through the wooden doorframe and into the bunkroom. I walked through the room, heading towards Spot's bunk in the very back corner. On my way, however, I came to an abrupt halt.  
  
"Slider?" I asked, not sure I was seeing correctly. "Is that you?"  
  
"Its me. And, oh, Spark, I'm sorry 'bout what happened, I've been tryin' ta talk some sense inta 'im but 'e won' listen. But I don' know what ta do, 'cause you'se me friend an' all but I love ya bruddah an' I ain't shore I'se ready ta leave 'im again." Slider looked genuinely torn between the duties of a girlfriend and a friend.  
  
"Its all right." Trying to change the subject from what she considered a betrayal, I asked, "When did you two get back together?"  
  
"Well, ya see, I was walkin' home from a meetin' one day an' Spot offahed ta walk me home, so I let 'im. Hafway back ta 'Hattan, he dropped on one knee an' asked me ta be 'is goil an' gave me dis necklace. I knew den dat I was still in love wit' 'im an' accepted happily." She was positively glowing as she told the story and I knew I couldn't blame her. I was happy for her, and I was happy for my brother as well. Despite all he had put me through these past few days, I still cared about him and was thankful that the girl he loved loved him back like Racetrack and I.  
  
Hearing her talk of necklaces made me remember the crystal Racetrack had given me way back when. I raised my hand to my neck and felt for the worn leather strap. I felt it and slowly pulled the jewel out on top of my clothing.  
  
"Ya still have dat?" Racetrack asked surprised.  
  
"Did you think I'd thrown it away?" I asked back.  
  
"Most goils wouldn' keep somethin' from da guy dat left 'em for someone else dat ain't even as pretty as dem," he said grinning. "Ya really did care, didn' ya?"  
  
"Racetrack," I said, ready to finally say the combination of the words that meant the world to every romantic. Sure, I'd said it out of context, but never just the three small words. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
And with that we were off to face my brother.  
  
A/N: I'm hoping this update means I'm back on the constant update track, but you know what would fuel me along? Reviews! There's a little box with a button that's really easy to click and type. Bet you didn't know that did you?  
  
Shoutouts (These are for the people that actually review!!):  
  
Sprite: Tart is our man-stealing enemy. I think we have to go soak her now. And make her listen to your doll thing (Summer, wasn't it?) LOL. Sorry the SOs weren't up before, my computer is evil. Update soon and enjoy your flying desk set!  
  
Drama-Queen: Yep, she finally got something good going for her. I guess we'll find out what happens with Spot soon.  
  
Soaker: I know this killed the cliffhanger so I'm not going to comment on that. But yeah, nice philosophical touch to your review. Its true though. LOL.  
  
Reffy: Glad you keep checking back!! It makes me feel special. * smiles *  
  
Jaede Loriele Conlon: * new reviewer jig * Yeah, I need to be arrested, and maybe not only for torturing fictional characters.. but that's a different story. Yeah, I agree about the pre-marital sex (I definitely don't support it!) but it was just the right sort of internal conflict for my story (Whoa, I paid more attention than I thought in my English class, didn't I?). Hope you keep reading! And yes, flying desk sets are cool. 


	24. So This Is Happiness

A/N: I've gotten a couple of reviews about the whole "pre-marital sex" issue and here's the deal.. I don't support pre-martial sex and I am in fact against it. I don't have a problem with people that do it, but I never will. However, I needed a good conflict on the smaller scale to accompany the somewhat less mentioned big plot (the whole Chant extravaganza). And there hasn't been any since she got pregnant and there won't be for the rest of the story. Just clearing that up.  
  
Now, on with the story:  
  
"Michael?" I asked, praying that using his real name would remind him of a better time before he ran away. I guess in that sense it was also a sort of guilt trap, it showed that I wouldn't be in this situation because we'd both be safe at home instead of wandering the streets of New York selling papes. "You in there?"  
  
"Go away!" he shouted gruffly.  
  
Well, so much for the sympathy angle. "Dammit, Spot! Get your lazy ass out here and face me! You've got the upper hand; I'm with child for goodness sakes! What am I gonna do to you? Get out here!"  
  
"I don' need dis from ya. Ya betrayed me, ya did some stupid shit, ya disobeyed me oidahs ta leave an' nevah set foot neah me again, an' ya jus' all-around misbehavin'. You'se me sistah an' therefore you'se me charge an' ya need ta listen ta what I say," he grunted.  
  
I was shocked at his views. "You say you didn't belong in that hoity-toity lifestyle, but you sure bought into the whole men being the masters view, didn't you? You honestly think that David is this controlling of Sarah? No! I mean, at least she was allowed to go out with Jack without getting your approval. C'mon, what is wrong with you?" I shouted at through the door, my voice full of every emotion I was feeling at that moment.  
  
"I don' wanna heah dis no moah. Get outta Brooklyn, an' don' ya be comin' back, ya heah?" he said. And that was it. He had dismissed me without even opening a door.  
  
I heard scurrying feet behind me and I turned to see who it was. I came face to face with Slider when I spun around. She looked confused and torn. I interpreted her glance and answered, "You can stay, you love him and he loves you. I'm not going to stand between the great American love story."  
  
"Thank you," she whispered before disappearing behind the door where Spot was sitting.  
  
"Race, let's go," I said softly, tired from the tirade. I allowed myself to once again melt into his arms as we walked, but I didn't really draw strength from him this time. Rather I felt inadequate and useless. "Am I really that horrible?" I asked.  
  
"Of course not," he said. "You'se poifect."  
  
"I love you."  
  
~*~*~*~ Six Months Later ~*~*~*~  
  
"Race, you need to be out selling, not hanging around here. I've got Fingers around here to watch out and Shade for if I ever need another person. You need to be out there earning some money," I told Racetrack one day as he sat on the bunk beside me.  
  
"You'se due in two weeks, what if da baby comes early?" he said frantically.  
  
I laughed as I shifted myself into a more comfortable position. "I just stopped selling yesterday, you can keep working. You need to be out, its not good for your nerves to be in here all day."  
  
"Why are ya tellin' me 'bout ma noives? Dat's somethin' only I should know, ain't it? But if ya insist.." He sighed and stood up, grabbing his newsboy cap. "I'll go sell. But if something happens, you'se gonna nevah heah da end of it from me. All righ'?"  
  
"All right," I told him. "What are the chances of the baby coming two weeks early anyway?"  
  
"Ya nevah know," he said as he leaned down and kissed my forehead. With that he walked out of the door to sell the morning papers with the boys.  
  
Fingers walked over from where she had been sitting across the room. "So, me an' Shark is gonna switch off bein' ya supervisah?" she questioned.  
  
"That's the plan, Stan," I said.  
  
"I'se goin' ta get meself some watah, ya alright for da moment?" Fingers asked. I nodded, and she began walking downstairs and into the makeshift kitchen where she could get some drinking water.  
  
Less than a minute later I heard footsteps coming back up the stairs. "Back already?" I asked Fingers.  
  
"Nah," I heard Spot's voice say. "Is it still all righ' for me ta come in heah?"  
  
At first I felt all the anger from our confrontations and his abandonment of me rushing up to greet me, but when I saw his face at the door and realized that he truly was sorry, I could only feel love. "It's all right."  
  
He came and sat down on my bed. "I came ta tell ya," he started. I could tell he was about to apologize, and I suddenly realized I didn't need to hear it.  
  
"Don't bother, I know what you want to say," I told him. "And you don't need to, its really my own fault, and I didn't listen to you."  
  
He looked straight into my eyes with an open frankness that only a brother and sister can achieve. "I'm glad ya did, I was wrong. Racetrack ain't exactly ditchin' ya for havin' his child or anythin'."  
  
"I know," I said, smiling slightly. "Not that we're truly sure it's his."  
  
"Don' mattah, he'll treat it like it is. He's a good guy, Higgins, he really is."  
  
At that moment, Fingers returned to the bunkroom from getting herself her water. "Is everythin' all righ' in heah?"  
  
"Yeah, it's fine," I answered. "You staying around 'Hattan, Spot?" I asked.  
  
"Unfortunately, dat ain't an option wit' all da shit goin' down wit' Chant. But I needed ta say what I said, an' I'se bettah be goin'. Love ya, 'Lex." With that he turned on his heel and began walking out the door. Before he left, however, he said, "Oh, an' 'Lex? Call me Michael, will ya, I'se ya bruddah before I'se a newsie, ya know."  
  
"Of course, Michael."  
  
All that day Fingers sat there with me, before I finally grew bored. "Fingers, can you get me out of here? I can't stay cooped up all day but Race would freak if he knew I left. Can you?"  
  
"I can sneak ya out an' we can go sellin', but if da boys come I'll tell 'em we was runnin' an errand ta get ya somethin'. Sound good?" Fingers offered.  
  
"Thanks so much, I owe you one," I gushed as I hugged her. I pulled off the oversized nightshift and quickly slipped into the pair of pants that a man at Medda's had offered me when I was last there. As it were, I had confronted Medda to ask her about the job hoax, and she admitted that her regular never canceled but still offered me a position if I wanted. I decided to decline, not wanting to be a burden on anyone other than myself. As I was buttoning my shirt over my massive belly I had to smile.  
  
Fingers noticed the grin. "Three weeks, eh? Dat's pretty soon."  
  
"I know," I told her. I knew things would be more difficult after the baby was born, but at the moment I was enjoying knowing that there was something growing inside of me. And now Spot - excuse me, Michael - had forgiven me and begged my forgiveness instead, and it was making me completely ecstatic. That combined with getting out of the room.. it was almost too much.  
  
"You'se very hormonal right now, ya know. I would be careful what ya do when ya like dis," Fingers warned in a fake motherly tone.  
  
"Shut up," I told her. "Now we are actually going to go sell, aren't we?"  
  
"Of course we are," she said, though she was nervously eyeing my stomach.  
  
I sighed. "I ain't gonna pop, you know. And if I do, it's not your fault, it's my own. We were just running errands, remember."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I remembah. Ya realize we'se gonna get intah loads of trouble if we'se caught, right?" Fingers said.  
  
"You can probably see Smith," I told her, noticing her face brightening. "He started selling around here, Michael told me. He volunteered to be on the lookout in case I need my brother, though I think it had more to do with you. He should be on the edge of the bridge, its tougher territory."  
  
"How's the bridge toughah than anywheah else?" Fingers asked. "An' how ya know moah stuff den I do an' I'se been heah for four yeahs."  
  
"'Cause you never stop to look around. The bridge is toughest because people have already bought their papers on the Brooklyn end if they're coming towards you. Also, how many people cross the bridge that haven't already been in the city long enough to have spotted another paperboy? That's just how it works."  
  
"Of coise, I knew dat. I jus' wanted ta see if you did," she said, somewhat confused. Trying to change the subject she added, "Now let's jus' go sell."  
  
"Of course," I said and started down the stairs after her. A moment later a bit of fresh air hit my face and I was (in the words of the acclaimed Jack Kelly) "Free, like the wind, like I'm gonna live forever. It's a feeling time can never take away.."  
  
"We'se headin' down ta da Bridge, right?" Fingers said, trying to sound casual.  
  
I grinned. "Of course, let's go see your lover-boy." Fingers whacked me on the head jokingly. "You know, you shouldn't do that to a pregnant woman," I scolded.  
  
"Yeah, well, ya ain't a woman. You'se jus' annudah child havin' a child."  
  
"You really think of me that way?" I asked. In my time with the newsies I had truly began to value their opinions about me. "You really think I'm just a child that got knocked up?"  
  
"Of coise not, you'se me friend an' I ain't gonna think less of ya for havin' a child." Somewhat under her breath she muttered, "I'se jus' glad ya got Racetrack on ya side still, knowin' it may not be his kid."  
  
"Only time will tell," I said, sounding much wiser than I probably was.  
  
By that time we had reached the Bridge, and I could see Smith looking at us. "Fingahs? Spark? What are ya doin' heah? You'se supposed ta be back at da lodgin' house."  
  
"I couldn't stand it," I told him. "But this can be our little secret right?" I said in a mock seductive tone.  
  
Fingers stepped in. "Alrigh', dat's me job, not yours. An' what exactly is sexy 'bout a pregnant woman anyway?"  
  
"I'm sexy whether I'm pregnant or not," I joked. Smith looked at me and then at his girlfriend and laughed. Fingers was evidently so much sexier than me at the time, even though Smith and I had had quite a time of flirting when I was still in Brooklyn those nine or so months previous. "See what you're missing?" I said laughing.  
  
"Oh, how sad," Smith said. "The baby been kickin' lately?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, plenty. I'll let you know if she does while I'm here."  
  
"Alrigh'."  
  
And so the three of us settled in for a somewhat normal day of hanging out and selling papers. All the while I couldn't keep from smiling my head off despite their sarcastic remarks.  
  
This was happiness.  
  
A/N: Whoa, happy chapter! Go me! Sorry this took so long, I had soo much work to do this week you wouldn't believe it. Thanks a million for all my reviews, I got a whole lot. Keep it up!  
  
Shoutouts (lots of 'em too):  
  
Soaker: I know, Spot and Sli are great together. I wrote a story about them once. It was pretty fun. Haha. Yeah, well, I guess this answers the whole thing about Spot. He's not all bad, took him a while though. Yes, yes, sweet Racetrack * smiles *  
  
Mouth: I didn't leave you hanging this time.. go me. Well, maybe I did. I guess you never know what happens next, I'm planning something exciting. * evil grin * Yep, yep, you've always wanted a flying desk set.  
  
Plaid Pajamas: Yeah, I left you blind for a while. So sorry! I just had sooo much homework. Wait, I forgot the new review jig. * does the new reviewer jig * Okay, very dizzy now. LOL. Nice adjectives, by the way.  
  
Drama-Queen: Whoa, I'm being ridiculously nice now aren't I? But everything is righted for the moment, including Spot.  
  
Sweets: Yeah, well, my update took a while too. Sorry about that. Anyway, here's more and more is on the way.  
  
AngelFish: * new reviewer jig * I always love getting new reviewers, it makes me feel I'm doing something right. Hope you keep reading!!  
  
Sprite: You do review, don't you? I should give you a prize. * hands Sprite a plaque that says "Most Common Reviewing of SparkHiggins' Stories" * there you go.  
  
Reffy: Haha. Now the baby is really showing. Not really much evident suspense in this chapter sadly. I didn't know how to add any. Haha, yeah, well, aren't we all in weird moods sometimes?  
  
AJ: * new reviewer jig * Whoa, you're my third new reviewer in just this chapter. Cool! Yeah, Race is very, very cute.  
  
Viper: No! I love the newsies, that's why I torture them. Haha. Anyway, about the sex thing, I know you've already read my above author's note, so I hope that explains it.  
  
Okay, I have to go eat dinner. Read and enjoy!! 


	25. Somewhere I Belong

With the help of Smyth (a/n: new and improved spelling as according to certain friends of mine) and Fingers I spent most of my time outside for the next week and a half. The routine stayed essentially the same: we waited until everyone left and then we snuck out the front and met Smyth at the Bridge and sold until five when we snuck back in.  
  
Then one day, the routine changed. We met up with Smyth as always, but the jovial greetings were dampened that day. "Ya need ta leave. It ain't safe heah anymoah. We'se movin' ya ta Medda's."  
  
"Wait, why isn't it safe?" I asked, concerned at the distress I detected in his voice.  
  
"Chant's movin' in on us again. Ya didn' really t'ink he'd jus' gonna retreat?"  
  
Fingers looked up worried. "I did," she proclaimed. "I mean, we've got twice as many troops as dey do, why don' dey jus' drop it."  
  
"Ta quote ya hero, Jack Kelly, 'If he gives in ta streetrats like us it means we've got da powah. An' he jus' can' do dat, no mattah what it costs,'" Smyth told her. He turned to face me, a look of fear barely visible on his nearly perfectly chiseled face. It probably wasn't the best time to be thinking about it, but Fingers had definitely picked well; he definitely had something going on. "Now le's get ya ta Irvin' Hall before da guys check out da lodgin' house an' move on ta da Hall. Den I'l tell 'em we took ya earliah an' ya won' get in trouble."  
  
"Works for me," I told him, following him as he walked towards the vaudeville theatre.  
  
"Heah we are," Smyth announced as we reached the building. "I'se gonna go find Jack an' let 'im know dat you'se heah. Fingahs, ya come wit' me, Shade an' Shark is already heah ta watch aftah her."  
  
I leaned in and kissed his cheek in a friendly manner. "Thanks, I owe you one," I told him before striding purposefully into the building and finding Medda. "Medda? You in here? It's Spark."  
  
"Alexandra, darling, I'm glad you're all right. Don't worry, Smyth already let me know the story and we'll cover you just fine. Come on in here, we've got a room set up for you."  
  
"Thank you," I said kindly and walked behind her into a small room with a single bed and a vanity. One girl was sitting on the bed and another was on the stool at the vanity. "Shade!" I shouted to the girl on the bed. "Shark!" I grinned as I looked at the one sitting at the counter.  
  
"Took you'se long enough. Jack's supposedly only two minutes away!" Shark exclaimed and we instantly set it up to look like I'd been there for at least an hour, as the story went.  
  
In the end I was lying under the covers on the bed in a plain off- white nightgown courtesy of Medda with my hair let down around me. "Thank you," I said happily to the two as Jack knocked on the door.  
  
"She in heah?" he asked. He spotted me lying on the bed and smiled. "Jus' makin' shore ya hadn't been sneakin' out lately. It's dangerous again ya know."  
  
"Yeah, I kn--" I started, but at that instant I keeled over in pain. "Get Medda!" I shouted to Jack, knowing that the baby was on the way.  
  
"All righ', all righ'," he shouted back as he raced out of the room in search of the redheaded woman.  
  
By the time Medda walked into the room Shade and Shark already had me situated. Medda immediately took control, ordering Shade to run for hot water and Shark to aid her. She talked me through the entire process and I swear that's what kept me sane. Jack had been sent as a runner to go get Racetrack and he was brought into the room as soon as I was decent.  
  
"What is it? Goil? Boy? Are ya all righ'?" he said frantically.  
  
I grinned as Shade held up a small baby girl. "You'se a faddah of a nice healthy little goil," she said. He looked estatic.  
  
Then Shark pulled her move. "You'se also da faddah of a good little boy," she informed him, holding up my son.  
  
At this point Racetrack looked overwhelmed and confused. His next statement proved this to be true. "Whoa," he said.  
  
"Yeah," was my equally creative reply.  
  
Medda looked at the two of us with a sparkle in her eyes. "I think these two need some time alone. Shade, Shark, let's get outta their way."  
  
"Thank you," I told her as she walked out of the room. She simply winked. I turned to Race. "What do you think?"  
  
"Dey's goigeous, jus' like deir muddah," he said, positively glowing with happiness. "We can't keep callin' 'em dey though, we gonna need ta name 'em."  
  
"Yeah, let me think for a minute," I said, pondering how we were going to manage this.  
  
"I'se been thinkin' 'bout it, an' I got some ideas. I was thinkin' each of us would pick a name dat is from our backgrounds an' see if we can get a good meanin' of 'em for a bonus. Either way, the child gets some of each of our culture."  
  
"You were thinking about that?" I said. As he nodded I realized I shouldn't have been surprised. After all, Racetrack was the hopeless romantic of the newsies. "What do you have so far?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.  
  
"Well, for a goil I was thinkin' Arianna." He paused for a second as if it was hard to say. "Arianna was me sistah an' she passed away when I was little. It means 'Most Holy' if ya want ta make da name's mean somethin'."  
  
"Of course I do," I said smiling. I thought back towards my Jewish heritage, wondering what name would fit the description and sound good. After a few minutes reflection it came to me. "Chaya," I stated. "It means life."  
  
"Arianna Chaya," Racetrack repeated. "Most holy life." He looked thoughtfully towards the ceiling for a moment. "I like it."  
  
"Now, you have any ideas for a boy?" I asked him.  
  
"Truthfully, I was hopin' for a little goil ta grow up like 'er muddah, so I don' really got any ideas."  
  
I smiled, blushing. "I'm sure you don't want that child to grow up like me. I'm not anything special," I said, bouncing the little girl in my lap.  
  
"Yes, ya are," he said.  
  
I desperately tried to turn the conversation back to names. "But what you said gives me an idea. You see, I think the second baby is a gift, because most people only get one. Therefore, how about we name him Shai - a Hebrew word for gift."  
  
"I'se got da poifect name ta go aftah dat," Race said, smiling excitedly. "Domincio. It means 'of G-d'."  
  
Now it was my turn to repeat the name over and over and decide the fate of it. "Shai Domincio," I said, liking the sound of it. "Gift of G-d." I smiled. "It's perfect!"  
  
He looked at me happily. "Should I call the others in?" he asked.  
  
"Not quite yet," I said. With that I leaned over and kissed him passionately, the two children lying in our laps.  
  
I pulled back and stared out at the setting sun, Racetrack watching me.  
  
At that moment I forgot all about the problems around me. I forgot completely about the oncoming battles with Chant and his men, I forgot about Oscar Delancy's anger. I forgot that I was seventeen and already dealing with two children. I forgot that I was completely and totally poor and my children would probably grow up in a slum or a tenement.  
  
I'd finally found what I had been searching for all along..  
  
Someone I belong.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
I looked to the two children beside me, a young curly haired boy and a girl with long black hair. Both the children were distinctly Italian, proving exactly who their father was. I guess I'd always suspected they were his, but I never could truly know. I smiled down at them, they were three years old exactly today. I'd taken them out of the house so that Racetrack could prepare for their party.  
  
"Tell us moah, Mommy!" the little boy shouted. I smiled, thinking he looked exactly like his father.  
  
"Yeah, Mama!" Arianna said in agreement.  
  
I ruffled Shai's curly mop of dark brown hair. "Ask your father."  
  
"But mom--" the little boy protest.  
  
His sister screeching, "I wanna know what happens" quickly interrupted him!  
  
"You'll find out tomorrow. I'll let your father tell his part next," I said. I stood quickly and brushed the grass off my dress. "Let's get home now, he's expecting us."  
  
"Not until you tell us the rest of the story," Arianna protest. I bit my lip to hold in my laughs. She was already turning into a spitting image of me, and even Spot said so.  
  
"All right. I'm leaving," I shouted over my shoulder as I walked slowly away, threatening jokingly to leave them.  
  
"We'se comin'!" Shai shouted happily. He grabbed his sister's arm and the two trotted up to meet me. We promenaded towards the apartments arm in arm happily.  
  
I walked in the door where Race had been hiding behind the couch. He shouted surprise to the twins and six-year-old Apple and a few other children from around the building came out. The group quickly got to playing, leaving me and Racetrack a second alone.  
  
"I love you, Alex," he said, kissing my cheek.  
  
I turned and beamed at the children. I owed him for every one of the gifts in my life, from finding my brother to finding the man I loved to having two beautiful children. I owed him for this house and for the food we ate at the table. Darnit, I owed him for the table! But I knew there was one way to pay him back for all that he had given me.  
  
"I love you, Anthony," I told him. He smiled before he felt a tugging at his pant leg.  
  
"Wanna tell us da rest of da story?" Apple, who had apparently heard whatever mangled memories of mine the children had been able to conjure up, begged him. He turned and sat down in the easy chair he sat in every night, turning to the children.  
A/N: All right, this is a very final chapter, so I'm going to go ahead and make it THE final chapter. However, I am almost assuredly going to do a sequel (too much was left untouched) through Racetrack's eyes. Yes? No? Maybe so? Lemme know!  
  
Shoutouts:  
  
Mouth: Tubbo!! I love Tubbo!! Haha. I spelled it Smyth, be proud. Yeah. Umm, seeya.  
  
Sweets: Well here's the baby. Or should I say babies. : ) Glad you liked it. Lemme know if you want a sequel!!  
  
Soaker: You quoted my movie! Sgt. Bilko is kickass (Max Casella in drag!! Great scene XD) Yeah, well, it was meant to make you think that about Spot, so I'm glad you did.  
  
Plaid Pajamas: Glad you liked it so much! I love getting new reviewers and you only started a few days ago. : )  
  
Drama-Queen: Yeah, Spot's off his pedestal. He wasn't in this chapter though.. I just realized that. Oh well, maybe Spottie will come up again soon in the sequal.. if there is one.  
  
Reffy: Yes, happy chapters are good. I hope this qualifies as a happy chapter too.  
  
AJ: Haha. Let's hope you weren't reading my story for the sex scenes or else someone randomly added one in there since there wasn't really a scene. It was a between the scenes thing. Haha. Yes, pregnant-women flirting is cool.  
  
Sprite: Yeah. Less drama in this chapter as much as I really was in the mood to write a happy ending (I met this guy and I really like him so I'm all happy now). Hope you liked it! Sequel? Yes? No?  
  
Fire: Is candy-coated Race supposed to be a threat?? If it is you have screwed priorities LOL. Yeah, I updated. Now you can update too. * hands Fire a flying desk set * Happy? LOL.  
  
A Side Note To Slider: You are a slut!! You're my friend and I'm a slut too but man, you were a slut at that party. LOL. People were talking about you at my temple. : )  
  
THAT'S IT!! ENDING!! WHOA!! SOOO HAPPY!! * DOES THE 'WHOA I'VE FINISHED MY SECOND STORY EVER TO FINISH' DANCE * YAHOOOO!!  
  
Of course.. there can be a sequel..  
  
I think its evident enough that I want to write one, but only if there's enough public demand. Lemme know soon!!  
  
Much love to all reviewers!!  
  
CTB, Spark 


End file.
